


Like a Hurricane

by raiderL



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiderL/pseuds/raiderL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I began posting this back in 2012 on fanfiction.net and it's remained unfinished; however I've started working on it again - and went back and edited the entire story so the version I'm posting here is slightly different from what was posted before (I'll be updating the version on ff.net as well). There are now (as of July 27, 2015) two new chapters and the final chapters have been blocked out so it will be finished! </p>
<p>To refresh, this all started because heartsassassin posted the following prompt: "Caught in a Hurricane. I'm envisioning one of them freaks out...which one I don't mind, but a bit of nurturing never goes astray, and if you get some lovin' in there well, that must mean you're awesome." As always, I don't own Miranda or Andy or Runway and am making no money off of this work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do want to thank everyone who has encouraged me to finish this story, I've had numerous PMs asking about it and giving me lots of positive feedback. I think without these awesome people I may have been tempted to just let this fade quietly into the night. One person in particular deserves mention because she's been a solid supporter of not just my writing, but many others in the DWP community. Bsofthewest - thank you for your support!

It was a brilliant idea, combining cutting edge architecture, the harsh lash of Mother Nature and couture.  A curving roofline of pale, nearly white, plastic-skinned cement, contrasted upon an ominous, roiling, dark gray wall of clouds. Designed to allow damaging winds and waters to flow harmlessly around it while the conventional squares comprised of shingles, wood and cinderblock were obliterated, the roof became instead an artful device, its gentle slope draped by brightly colored thin figures lounging in seemingly random patterns. 

It was a good thing that none of the models had a fear of heights, that would have been unfortunate, but really there was no danger; ropes, later to be wiped away by the meticulous manipulation of a skilled Photoshop editor, tethered the barefoot tabula rasas allowing the photographer, tucked safely in the bucket of a rented cherry picker, to bring to life the vision of one woman. 

Miranda Priestly, Editor in Chief of Runway, the premier fashion magazine in all of the world, sat languidly upon a director’s chair, the picture of absolute calm while all around her buzzed a flurry of activity.  She was well pleased with the progress made; the shoot nearly complete and near perfection.  Except the sky, Miranda directed her sharp gaze away from the earthbound constructs and inspected the spectacle churning at a slow pace along the coast, a safe enough distance to cause no more than a minor breeze as it aimed towards land farther south and east.  That sky was awesome in its beauty, it **_was_** perfection and she granted free rein to her creative mind allowing it to wander amidst the magnificent dichotomy so terrible in its potential for utter destruction. 

She shook herself free of the hypnotic sight as a loose leaf of paper from her planning folder slapped into her, a gust of wind flipping open its cover and scattering the contents like confetti as one of her staff jerkily attempted to follow and scoop them back.  She looked quickly towards the photographer, she was still shooting but the truck’s crew had shifted from their disinterested slouches into a state of agitation not unlike ants whose home was abruptly disturbed.   

Miranda’s eyes narrowed as one of the crew flashed a signal to the photographer who waved him off with a gesture universally recognized as quite rude.  It was at that moment that her first assistant Andréa made an appearance at her side and she turned, skewering her with the look that sent all individuals from copy editors to a select CEO into a near cowered state.  All except of course for the dark haired beauty, hair newly loosed from a professional and practical bun and freely caught by the ever increasing “breeze”, who smirked as the intended intimidation gusted by her not unlike the wind, Miranda mused, around that supposedly hurricane-proof dwelling before them.

Miranda tried to pinpoint when that change had occurred; three or four months after Paris perhaps?  That had been five months before, when Emily, then deemed suitably ready for the next step in her professional development, was moved into the creative department to shadow Nigel. 

“Miranda, the site foreman says that the wind has increased to the point just below safety for use of the truck and for those on the roof.”

“Did Magda get all of the shots needed?”

Andréa placed a laptop onto the table next to Miranda’s chair and turned it towards her after several mouse clicks. “This is the first memory card and she has nearly completed the second…” Andy let her voice trail off and swiped at one of the longer strands of hair that irritated her as it slapped gently across her face, mildly aware, through her intense and nearly inappropriate focus on the enchantingly beautiful woman before her, that she was going to need to pull it back into a pony tail if the wind continued.

Andy shifted slightly from her barefoot stance in the sand; she’d given up on her shoes after the first day of this shoot and these photos, the culmination of three days of intense logistical planning, would mean the difference between a well-deserved feeling of accomplishment and abject despair for all involved. 

She watched Miranda with unfettered fascination as the wind all but destroyed the carefully styled signature hair knowing that at this moment in time, when the woman was completely absorbed in the images, that there would be no awareness of her scrutiny.  Andy waited patiently, anticipation heavy as she took in the signs.  Clear, intelligent eyes normally so blue, now reflected more of the grayness of the sky over the Gulf of Mexico as they flitted across the entire page of thumbnails taking first a measure of the whole.  She absorbed the minor shifts in Miranda’s facial muscles, the slight action of her tongue… _Oh goddess, her tongue_ … Andy’s hand not occupied with pushing her curls back formed a tightly held fist as a wave of very unprofessional tingling heat cascaded from her heart to her belly and then lower.

Miranda’s tongue lightly pushed forward into her lower lip, slightly peeking outwards and then retreating, just one of the complicated steps in an unconscious dance of concentration when caught deeply within a creative trance. 

What Andréa didn’t realize was that it had been some months since that trance had included within it the details of her observation. 

The observer and the, not so unaware, observed continued their unique choreography which absorbed a minute from the hour and then three as the expanse of thumbnails was reduced in number to a dozen, then half that as images were deleted; leaving those precious few deemed worthy of the next step in assessment.  It was here that Andy saw _it_ ; that spark in Miranda’s eye that caused her heart to leap with joy.  _Yes!_ The shoot was a success, everyone involved would live to work another day but, more importantly to Andy, Miranda was happy.

It was in moments just like this that Andy had to forcibly restrain herself; the clench of her fist tightened until her knuckles were nearly white as the urge to breach the bubble of Miranda’s personal space and  trace her fingers around those delicate lines of satisfaction around her riveting eyes was overwhelming.  With a harsh reprimand of, _Get a grip Andy!_ she forced her feet to step away several paces as she turned her focus back towards the shoot. 

It was getting harder and harder to be around Miranda and the awareness of the reality of her predicament flooded her heart with a black cloud of heaviness as she knew that her days as Miranda’s assistant were dwindling.  She would need to leave soon because her ability to fight the overwhelming tide of her desire was no longer a skillset she possessed and she had to go before she was fired for doing something completely inappropriate.

Miranda felt the moment that Andréa turned away, the loss of her assistant’s focus upon her like a blanket of freezing air rushing down a chimney flue chasing after a long extinguished fire.  She buried her shiver and tapped her lip as she nodded at the three images enlarged before her on the seventeen inch monitor; if nothing of use was on that second memory card it would not matter as she had these.  It was so rare when a shoot managed to capture the vision of what she held in her mind’s eye and her sense of elation blossomed into a full blown smile.

Andy had turned back to inform Miranda that the photographer had finished but the words died on her lips as the singular beauty of this moment slammed into her with the observation of that oh so elusive expression of joy gracing her boss’s face. 

Miranda felt every long dead nerve ending south of her brain clench at Andréa’s vulnerable and oh so sensual expression but firmed her expression, it was getting increasingly difficult to pretend that her assistant was merely an assistant and that she was unaware that her assistant saw her as more than just her boss.  They’d been dancing around one another for months, culminating in moments like this when the undisguised longing that Andréa could no longer seem to hide crackled the air between them.  But Miranda didn’t have a place for these feelings so it was infinitely less complicated if things would remain as they were; Andréa was the best assistant she had ever had and she didn’t want to lose that for an affair that would end once Andréa had gotten it out of her system. 

“Miranda…” The near silent expulsion of air was ripped from her lips as an unusually strong gust pushed her forward a step until she regained her balance, snapping the tableau between them.

Andréa’s stumble jarred Miranda away from their hopefully unobserved-by-others tableau and she objectively took in her surroundings for perhaps the first time in hours. The weather had deteriorated considerably and a flicker of alarm niggled at her as she realized the wind had shifted direction.

She clicked on the internet icon and refreshed the National Hurricane Center website.  Andréa flinched slightly at the look on Miranda’s face.

“Andréa get me William.”

Andy had made it her life’s work to catalogue and interpret every inflection, every tonal change in one of Miranda’s most effective tools, her voice, but this particular sharp edged demand was awash in something never before heard, _fear?_ , and her disbelief in the conclusion kept her rooted in the sand.

“Andréa.  Now!”

Jolted by both the incredulity of the correctness of her assessment and by the urgent, strident tone, Andy hurried over to the site foreman, Bill, a former stuntman now owner of his own consulting company, whose worried eyes met her wordless request as he nodded once and headed over to Miranda.

Andy felt a hand on her forearm and she turned to look as both Nigel and Serena flanked her.

“Six, what’s going on?”

Andy allowed a small smile at his continued insistence upon using that ridiculous nickname, despite her current size four, as she shook her head, “I’m not entirely sure but I think something’s changed with this storm…”  They all looked up at the sky overhead and then as practically one, back out to the open expanse of water.

Serena nodded as her focus on the scene softened her voice and thickened her accent, “Yes, you are right, I’ve seen this before… this is no good.”

 _Fantastic._  Andy mentally muttered then straightened up and ordered, “Okay, let’s get everything done in half the time it would usually take.  Serena, all of your setup has been put away right?”  She knew that the Brazilian-born head of the hair and make-up department was in the habit towards the end of a shoot of breaking her stations down, save for one emergency touch-up kit; remaining prepared even as she efficiently ensured an orderly departure.  At her nod she continued, “Help get the models changed and on the bus; all of the couture packed away and be ready to move in 15 minutes.”

Serena gave Andy a reassuring smile and then trotted over to the clutch of young women, all of whom were successfully returned to firm ground.

“Nigel…”

“I know, I’ve got nearly everything in my car; just need to grab the rest of Serena’s luggage from the house and I can be ready to go in ten.”

Andy’s attention shifted back towards Miranda and the tall, rugged consultant as he grimly turned and strode back to his team; barking into his walkie-talkie phone.  Already the rigging was coming down and the lack of care they were using as they gathered the ropes and other gear added to her growing unease.  She moved over to the photographer, taking the second memory card then back to the now forgotten laptop, glancing at the typewritten script of the newest hurricane warnings with a slight gasp before she clicked over to the folders menu and began transferring everything from both cards onto both the computer hard drive and a flash drive she pulled from her pocket.  For extra measure she began an upload to the ftp site and left it to run while she took the cards and handed them back to the photographer and then the flash drives to Nigel.

Miranda marveled at both Andréa’s ability to interpret the next steps needed without direction and the efficiency with which she insured both a timely exit from this island and the security of their work.  The disquiet within her caused by the sudden directional change of the hurricane was soothed somewhat by awareness that somehow Andréa would make it all right. No longer needed to oversee the exodus she headed back to the marvel of engineering that had been her and her inner circle’s home for the past few days to begin packing.

A half hour later everyone but Andy and Miranda had left the site, their caravan traveling the twenty minute trek from their end of the island to the only bridge that connected to the mainland; a bridge that was four miles long and low to the water. Andy was just zipping up her suitcase when a shrill beeping ripped through the silence of the beach house.  She left her bag and descended the stairs to investigate and found that it originated from a corner just off the kitchen that housed an array of what appeared to be communications equipment.

“What **_is_** that horrible noise?” Miranda emerged from what had been her bedroom with a rolling suitcase in tow as she glared in Andréa’s direction careful not to reveal both her alarm or slight amusement with the frantic manner that her assistant was pawing through the items cluttering the nook in her search for the culprit.

Andy winced as she searched amongst the different devices sitting on the inset counter; both at the continued annoying alarm and at Miranda’s tone.

 “I’m not sure; I’m trying to figure out which one right now.”  Another five seconds passed until one flashing light that pulsed with the rhythm of the alarm revealed itself and she grabbed, what she assumed was a weather radio and searched for the button that would shut it off.  After several tries the alarm ceased but was replaced by the stilted cadence of a computer generated voice.

“…Hurricane Layla, a high Category Four on the Saffir-Simpson scale with sustained winds of 151 mph has shifted direction to the North/Northwest with an increased forward motion of 28 mph and is located 330 miles south southeast of Pensacola, Florida.  Areas in the path of this storm stretch east from Biloxi, Mississippi to Crawfordville, Florida and include the cities of Pensacola, Destin, Panama City and all of St. George Island.  Mandatory evacuations are in effect for all islands along nearly the entire panhandle.  Please listen to NOAA weather radio for further updates on this large, quickly moving and dangerous storm…”

Andy switched the radio off and directed worried eyes towards her boss. “Jesus, we’re right in the middle of all of this.”  They were on St. George Island and unfortunately at one of the furthest points from the only way off the island.

“Yes, but not for long.  Surely we’ll have plenty of time to get to the mainland.”

Andy didn’t wait for instructions and was grabbing the car keys as she headed for the door throwing over her shoulder, “I’m going to go get the car and bring it to the elevator entrance in the garage.”  She had left the rented Toyota Land Cruiser parked closer to Miranda’s work station in case she had needed to run a last minute errand during the shoot.

Miranda returned to her room and rolled two large suitcases and a carry-on bag over to the elevator.  The elevator, what would seem a ridiculous luxury, was actually a necessity as the three story house stood on composite pylons reinforced with fiberglass rebar, the first floor of living space elevated twenty-two feet above the sandy dunes.  There were two staircases that radiated from either side of the long porch that followed the curvature of the house; fine for heading to the beach with only a light hamper of food and a blanket but not for moving anything substantial.  The porch wrapped a third of the way around the house and provided spectacular views of the sugar-white beach and the normally placid gulf.

It took only moments before the doors parted to reveal a sand strewn concrete floor and rather than move her bags from the protected confines of the metal car where surely sand would be driven into every miniscule crevasse she allowed the door to close behind her as she waited for Andréa to return with the car.

Moving towards the open garage door her gaze was once again captured by the awesomeness of the surrounding landscape; the wind was steady now, she wasn’t sure how fast exactly but strong enough to bend lighter trees and bushes away from their centers.  A particularly nasty gust picked up a bucket that had been sitting beside the base of the stairs closest to her and threw it noisily into her enclosed space startling her and drawing attention back to the fact that Andréa had yet to arrive with the car. 

Annoyance flared outward from that place deep inside that was deathly afraid of being trapped within circumstances beyond her control but after another few minutes passed without Andréa she began to worry.

“What has that girl gotten herself into now?” She wondered aloud.  Her cell phone was still with her purse upstairs and she debated whether she should go get it or set off down the asphalt to find out for herself.  Just when she could wait no longer and had decided to seek her out the sky opened up with a huge outpouring of water.  _Bloody hell!_   Decision made for her she went back up the elevator to get her phone. Hitting three on her speed dial she internally cursed yet again when a vaguely familiar dueling of violin and cello, _Vivaldi?_ emanated from the oversized purse laying half open on the kitchen counter.  _Of course she had to leave her phone here_.

The uneasiness she had been feeling ever since she noticed Andréa’s prolonged absence blossomed into a fully grown worry.  She noted several rain jackets hanging from a set of hooks nearest the first panel of heavily reinforced glass doors fronting the living area and with resignation pulled it over her Mark Jacobs pantsuit while grabbing one for Andréa. When the elevator door opened back to the now rain soaked concrete she had a vague hope that Andréa would have miraculously appeared.  Looking down at her Prada sandals she quickly weighed the likelihood of their survival on a trek through sodden sand and chucked them back into the elevator as she rolled up her pant legs.

It took her several minutes longer to traverse the hundred or so yards that led to the spot she had used as her base only an hour before, hampered as she was by the driving rain and wind gusts which were now definitely picking up in intensity.  Finally she rounded the curve in the narrow lane where the car was parked but before she could make eye contact with the vehicle the latest gust dwindled and merged back into the increasingly strong sustained wind carrying with it a long string of obscenities.

“Mother FUCK-ing, no good piece of rust-sucking SHIT!” was followed by a loud slamming of metal upon metal.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Miranda was in view of the car nothing more was heard except for the steady whistling of the winds through the gnarled, low lying coastal trees.  Andréa had yet to see her so she paused, taking in a scene of such abject dejection that her heart climbed into her throat, urging her arms to surround the girl with comfort.   But Miranda was made of stronger stuff than her heart, at least when her head convinced her of that fact, and she remained rooted, fighting the urge to gather the soaked and shivering woman into her, and awaited either an acknowledgement of her presence or a lessening of her own intense emotions before she made a fool of herself.

lXlXlXl

Andréa shivered as she leaned palms down on the hood of the Land Cruiser, frustrated tears mingling with the rainwater and sea spray that soaked every inch of her.  When she’d gotten to the car and it had failed to start she had felt the first strains of panic as she knew a little of what made cars work and the sound that was coming from the engine compartment when she turned the key boded nothing but trouble.  Hoping against hope that she was wrong, that it was a loose wire somewhere and not a bad starter, she rolled up her sleeves, popped the hood and began eliminating possibilities.  She had been fine until the rain started, it was then that a feeling of desperation had descended upon her and her actions grew jerkier with images crashing one upon the other, each more graphic and horrific than the other, as to what it would mean to be trapped on this island with a major hurricane slamming directly into them.

Defeated she had finally screamed her frustration and let the hood of the SUV slam with a loud crash.  She stood in her soaked designer clothes, vaguely aware that she was trembling but unable to move.  She knew she had to go back and give Miranda the bad news. 

_Oh god._

This was so **_not_** bad news. Bad news was, “Hey, I’m sorry but Patricia’s dog walker was delayed by an hour and it was Cara’s day off so the one hundred and twenty pound mountain of fur laid down a two pound pile of poo smack dab in the middle of your fifty-thousand dollar Persian rug”.  So no, **_this_** was not bad news; this was catastrophe of the potentially fatal variety.

Head still down and suddenly exhausted not to mention cold she let herself cry for several more moments, knowing that she had to pull it together and not show vulnerability in front of Miranda.  _At least the rain will hide my tears_ she comforted herself even as she knew that when she cried it was always obvious even once the tears were dried _._  

She had just managed to convince herself that she could handle everything, that this was really happening, that somehow she needed to keep herself together and that to accomplish all she would actually need to move.  She gathered her flagging energy and was just about to push her now sluggish body back from the car when a warm hand settled on her forearm.

“GAAAhhhh! Oh my god!”  Andy jumped and pulled away, arms flailing outwards, her modest grip on composure shredding like tissue paper.  Wild eyed with hair and clothes plastered to her body she regressed beyond even those early days when she first started at Runway; transported back to those days in junior year of high school when she had to cope with too much reality and chose not to.  She remained present enough to understand that a message of some import still needed to be delivered but the calm assessment of the situation that she intended lost something in the translation. 

“Miranda!  I’m sorry!  Damn! I’m so sorry.  Uhm, starter; it’s the uhm starter, it’s fucked; I can’t fix it; I can’t! I’m so sorry I can’t fix it!”

Miranda had finally given in, albeit not entirely, to her first inclination and reached out to offer what little comfort she could afford; concern for the young woman overriding her fear of losing face.  As she took stock of the younger woman who was now standing several feet away with head down and arms wrapped around herself in a protective gesture she discovered that it was indeed possible for Andréa to shiver even more probably due no doubt from both the stress and the complete soaking she had endured.

Andy stiffened and berated her stupidity and lack of control although it all did seem rather far away right now.  She knew that a reprimand was inevitable; how could there not be one?  She’d messed up; they were stuck, she just knew it.  Just like she knew that she was well and truly fucked and gods but she was cold.  Her chattering teeth and manic introspection caused her to miss something outside.  _Huh?_ She knew she had to pay attention, Miranda was speaking and whenever Miranda spoke it was important.  Ah yes, she was waiting for her infamous anger to assault her. But wait a minute, _what?!_

Andy worried now that her disconnect from reality was even more severe than she’d thought; but then she remembered that she wasn’t that Andréa anymore and this wasn’t that Miranda.  They were different now; the difference being lost to her at the moment; however a part of her held onto it.  Even so, when there was no harsh rebuke, instead only a quiet and steady non-blaming it sparked a new round of confusion.  _Maybe I am fucking crazy again._

“Andréa, please, it’s not your fault”. 

Miranda watched in morbid fascination and with a great deal of confusion as the one adult with whom she felt the greatest connection appeared to completely lose it.  When she rounded the curve in the drive to be greeted by such profanity she was instinctually affronted and her automatic reflex to attack nearly was given reign.  Fortunately that other part of her being, the one that was herself in relation to Andréa, was able to silence the tirade before it fully took form.  The relief she experienced by that was quickly subsumed by an all-encompassing concern for Andréa’s well-being; surely this level of major freak out was not normal, even for Andréa in her early days as her assistant.

Her intelligent mind assessed the signs and concluded that if Andréa wasn’t already in a very real, physiological shock that she was rapidly careening towards it.  The realization snapped her from her own disassociation with current events and spurred her to action.

“Come; we’ll go back to the house and figure something out.”  She dropped the raincoat over Andréa’s shoulders, _not like it will do much good now,_ and started to drag the now silent woman away from the SUV but stopped before they turned towards the house. 

“Andréa.”  She waited a moment for acknowledgement and when there was none turned Andréa towards her and tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet.  It took a moment for those ever so expressive eyes to focus back to the current physical plane, however briefly and she asked, “Is there anything of importance in the vehicle?”

It took a few seconds and then there was a slight head shake but no answer was forthcoming so Miranda squeezed the hand even as she pinched back another wave of annoyance.  Yes she was concerned but damn it all to bloody hell, she was probably two steps close to losing it herself and dealing with this vulnerable woman was pushing her closer by the second.

As Andréa’s slight head shake was inconclusive she left her standing in the middle of the drive for a moment and quickly searched the seats and floor for anything of value, pulling Andréa’s laptop from the backseat and a rolling cooler with Pellegrino and fruit from the rear compartment. She then ducked into the open driver’s side and removed the keys from the ignition before settling the laptop bag’s strap diagonally across her body under the raincoat and grabbed the pull handle of the cooler.  Grateful that the rain and wind had calmed just a bit she reached out with her free hand and grasped an ice cold hand, cradling it in her own as she tugged the entire load, including her lost assistant, back towards shelter.

lXlXlXl

Miranda dragged her suitcases back into the main room and moved for her cell phone.  She was torn, Andréa was still in a fairly fragile state and needed attention as she continued to stand in the middle of the room and stare but she knew as well that time was critical now; they had to find a way off of the island immediately.  Opting to do what she could to manage both she dialed Nigel as she moved to a guest bathroom and grabbed several towels.  She had returned to Andréa and was draping them over her as she realized the call had went to voicemail.  Cursing several times she barely tolerated the wait for the beep as she left a terse “Call me” before laying one of the towels on the leather sofa and then directing the still shivering woman to sit.

“Andréa.” Miranda was hoping that with repetitive inquiries and touch that she could help forge a path back to reality for the still unresponsive woman.  As she gently moved her hands along the bare skin of tanned forearms, their coldness indicated that perhaps the priority was not to make contact with the outside world but to get her warm.

She draped several towels over Andréa’s body, and the rubbing on her arms and shoulders increased in pressure in hopes of getting the circulation back all the while murmuring that it wasn’t her fault and that they were going to be fine, hopeful that the slight waver in her voice went unnoticed as she was not altogether convinced that they would be.

The ringing of her cell phone interrupted her efforts but she answered quickly, settling next to the shivering woman.

“Nigel.  Where are you?”

“We’re on northbound 60, south of route 20; it’s slow going but we’re moving.  Serena is driving while I’m navigating while the bus with the models and couture is following; it’s a good thing we got out of there when we all did as the weather reports say it’s gotten a lot larger and is now aimed at the island.  How far behind us are you and Andy?”

“The car wouldn’t start; we’re still on the island.”  She really was amazed at how her conditioning as the _Ice Queen_ allowed her to maintain an even tone.

“What?!!!  Miranda…” Nigel of course never could resist allowing his emotions to roll out unchecked.

“Yes, Nigel, I am well aware that this is a less than ideal situation, but at least everyone else from our party is now safely away.”

“What are you going to do?  There were signs posted that the bridge would probably be closing by 4:00; sooner if it got too rough, and Miranda I cannot tell you just how rough it was even when we made the crossing.”  He sighed dramatically, “It’s a good thing that Serena was driving because I was half cowering beneath the dashboard.”

Miranda looked at the clock on her phone with a sinking feeling; 3:40.  A tersely murmured, “Fuck” slipped out before she could censor her brain to mouth connection. _So much for the Ice Queen_ she internally sneered.

Nigel’s eyebrows climbed high up his brow at the expletive but made no comment on its rarity; if ever there was a time for the always controlled professional face to slip, this was it.

“Okay then...” Miranda paused for a moment and reviewed their options. “I’m going to call emergency services and find out exactly what our options are and then I will call you back.”

Nigel snorted, despite the gravity of the situation, as the phone disconnected abruptly in typical dragon form.

Miranda looked over at Andréa and noted that she wasn’t shaking as badly and that her color was improving somewhat; she would deal with getting her back on track after this next call.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“We are stuck in a house on the western end of St. George Island; our car would not start and despite our best efforts, it isn’t going anywhere.”  The iron control of both her language and delivery had returned.  “We need to know if there is anyone available to assist us with evacuating; or…” Her voice lost some of its vigor and she completed the last thought with a hint of resignation, “…if that is even an option at this point.”

The 911 operator paused; this was not a good situation as the western end of the island was the most vulnerable to the storm surge, past hurricanes having wiped entire blocks of houses away leaving nothing behind.  However she didn’t want this person to panic so worked to steady her voice.

“Ma’am unfortunately the bridge to the mainland closed twenty minutes ago.” 

Miranda closed her eyes and let out a slight gasp; of course the bridge closed, had even intuited that it would be so; she swallowed against the sudden acid taste in her mouth and pushed forward, it was time to gather as much information as possible. “Can you tell me what we may expect?  There are two of us here and we are unfamiliar with hurricanes; we’ve only been on this island for three days.”

The operator fiddled with a ballpoint pen as she reached for something positive to say; there were very few structures on the island that would survive a direct hit and even the emergency personnel had evacuated, being the last to cross to the mainland as they closed the bridge behind them.  “Ma’am I wish I could give you better news but you are in a very vulnerable spot on the island and all emergency personnel have left for the mainland.  Where are you in relation to the beachfront and what type of house are you in?”

“We are approximately a hundred meters from the ocean and are in the domed house that is purportedly hurricane proof.”

At this the operator perked up, perhaps there was hope for them after all.  “Ma’am…”

“Miranda please.”

“Well alright, Miranda.”  The slight lift in the operator’s tone seemed to strengthen her soft southern accent, “this may not seem like it but this may just be your lucky day.  If you have to be anywhere on that island when this storm comes in I’d say you’re in the best possible spot.”

Some of the tension that had threaded its way through every muscle in Miranda’s body relaxed, _finally, something right._   “What can we expect?  Is there anything we need to do to prepare? How long may we expect to be here, when will the storm make landfall?”  Miranda snapped her jaw shut at her uncharacteristic ramble; when she glanced over at Andréa she nearly laughed at the incredulous look upon her face but instead opted to reach over and give her hand a squeeze.  Noting that Andréa’s body temperature had warmed somewhat she rolled her eyes and then put the operator on speaker; there was no need now to shield the woman next to her as she seemed to have regained some of her sharpness.

“Whoa, one thing at a time Miranda!  I don’t have all the answers but I can give you the house owner’s cell phone number and they’ll be able to give you a good idea of what to expect.  In the meantime I would say make sure that any electronic device you have is at full battery power and that even if there is bottled water stored that you fill however many bathtubs are in the house with cold water as you may be stuck there for a while.  Also, whatever you do, don’t leave that house until you are absolutely certain that the storm has passed.  Oh, and even then, be careful!  The sand becomes like quicksand when the water gets up there, you need to remember to not take anything around you for granted.”

The woman gave them the number for the owners and then hung up after a cheery “Good luck!”

The two women just sat there for a moment in silence, each absorbing the enormity of the situation although Andy, having not had the awareness nor access to the first half of the conversation had questions.  She cleared her throat and looked sheepishly at Miranda.  “I’m really sorry for going off the deep end there Miranda.”

Miranda snorted which caused a replay of Andy’s earlier look of disbelief at the uncharacteristic behavior.  Andy straightened up a bit and asked quietly with the barest hint of humor; “Okay, who are you and where did my dragon lady go?!”

As soon as it left her mouth she winced and stood up quickly, towels dropping from her body like leaves from an autumn tree.  _Christ Andy, what is wrong with you?_   “Uh, well, uh I think I’m still not well; I mean I’m sorry Miranda!”  Her voice strengthened and her face, only moments before a deathly pale, now blazed with warmth.

The desiccated “Really” that Miranda shot back at her did little to assuage Andy’s distress. 

“I mean, obviously, you’re not mine…” She frowned and chewed her lip.  “I mean really you’re not…”  She glanced up at the steady gaze and pressed her hand to her forehead; “Gods just shoot me now” she mumbled unintelligibly but then met the unrelenting skewering and pushed forward.  “Whatever, that’s not important right now, we’re stuck here right?  There’s no leaving and there’s a Cat 4 hurricane hurtling straight for us; is that the story?”

Miranda swallowed her disbelief at Andréa’s words, “my dragon lady” tumbling repetitively drowning out Andréa’s continued attempts at a coherent retraction.  She kept as tight of a rein to her helter-skelter emotions as best she could and continued to watch in her own suspended state of shock as Andréa jerkily attempted to gain control of her mouth.  It took several seconds of silence for Miranda to realize that Andréa had completed her frantic pacing and was looking at her expectantly.  _Oh, bollocks, what did she just say?_  She reviewed the prior seconds’ memory and understood that Andréa may have asked her a question.  “I’m sorry Andréa, would you repeat that last part?”

The hand flew up again but instead of slapping her forehead, Andy rubbed at her furrowed brow with a thumb and forefinger, pinching the bridge of her nose.  _Miranda was daydreaming?!_

Andy decided it was just better to focus on the ‘simple’ part and at the end of a deep breath, exhaled her response.  “Yeah, we can’t leave, right?”

Miranda released her own prolonged, frustrated sigh both because of her actions and her preoccupation but still managed within that single breath to convey that Andréa was correct.

Now that Andy was no longer covered she realized just how cold she was and a new round of shivers rippled through her body.  “Uh, I’ve gotta change; these clothes…”

“Yes, yes do…” Miranda’s voice trailed off.  _What is wrong with me?!_

“Will you wait until I come back to call the owners?”

But Miranda was lost deep in thought again and merely tilted her head, which Andy took as a yes as she made her way back upstairs to her room and her neatly packed bags.  _If this is how we are after only a couple of hours, how the hell are we going to be able to spend who knows how long in each other’s company?_

Miranda continued to sit for several minutes, staring blankly at nothing as she wondered just what had gotten into her.  She was so relieved that Andréa had come back to her, the woman’s disconnection from the world around her setting off a firecracker of worry, on top of the already raging inferno of fretting caused by being stuck on a beach with a hurricane aiming for them. 

She wished she didn’t care so much; wished that she was on the mainland; wished that there was no hurricane. Now everything was different; the necessity of enduring this trial would call upon them to interact in a way far beyond their carefully balanced professional charade and Miranda wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to handle it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Owww!  Miranda! I said I had it; just hold the goddamned door!”  Andy struggled with the last of the patio furniture as Miranda attempted to help her drag the heavy chair into the house instead of keeping a firm grasp on the door in the increasingly strong gusts of wind.  A particularly nasty downdraft had rewarded her distracted effort by ripping the door from her grip and driving its handle into Andy’s back as she was crossing the threshold.

Andy left the annoying furniture item just inside the door and plopped down onto a nearby sofa; hands on her knees and head buried in her hands. 

“I’m sorry Miranda…”

“I’m sorry Andréa…”

They spoke at the same time and Andy lifted her once again wet head with a small smile on her lips, meeting Miranda’s equally disheveled appearance.  “It just hurt for a minute and it surprised me is all, I didn’t mean to lash out.”

“It’s alright.” Miranda sighed as her lips quirked into a slight grin.  “It appears that in this particular instance I overestimated my ability to multi-task.”

Andy’s small smile blossomed to reveal perfect teeth and true warmth in her eyes causing Miranda’s heart to skip a beat.  Literally.  It took her a moment to break the eye contact as she brutally denied herself any joy from her feelings and turned to the counter, fingers fidgeting with the edges of Andréa’s notebook as she put a checkmark next to ‘Patio Furniture’ from “The List”.

“The List” was a byproduct of their discussion with Don and Angela Shiavone, the builders of the dome house who had fortunately been available to take their call.   That was an hour before and they were just about two thirds of the way through their suggested preparations.

“What’s next Miranda?”

“A visual inspection of all windows and doors in the house to ensure that all are tightly sealed.”

“Which floor do you want to take the second or third?” 

It was an innocuous question and Miranda shrugged but when her eyes cut over towards the fifty four inch LED/LCD television resting on an ornately carved credenza in the living room, the large screen awash in the colorful swirls of the radar as it tracked the storm’s progress, she started feeling a little sick.  She closed her eyes and forced down a sudden rise in bile trying not to dwell on her doubts that this house would truly be capable of withstanding a storm such as Layla now just on the edge of a Category 5 hurricane.

“Miranda?”

The voice was a lot closer than she had anticipated and sent a shiver up her spine. She shook herself and picked up her phone; she’d put off calling her daughters, wanting them to continue living their lives in blissful ignorance of the possibility that they could very well be without their mother come this time tomorrow.

Andy saw the look of despair that had settled on Miranda’s beautiful face and correctly interpreted its cause.  She moved into the other woman’s personal space needing so badly to slip her arm around the slender waist but opted at the last second to rest a hand upon her shoulder while leaning her body in so half of her front aligned with Miranda’s right side. She swallowed hard at the closeness but pushed the feelings of longing aside as her right hand reached out and took the phone from fingers that were unusually slack.

“Hey, I know you want to call them.”  Andy wasn’t sure exactly what was needed here but judging from the intense clenching of Miranda’s jaw and the gathering of moisture at the edges of her lower eyelids she knew that any conversation with the twins would need to wait until either Miranda allowed herself to release some of the emotion or took some time to shore up her usually indestructible mask.  She was hoping that Miranda would allow for the first option as her choice but knew that was a long shot.  But maybe…the barest outline of a course of action presented itself to her and before she could question the safety of pulling such a move the words were tumbling out.

“It’s scary, right?”  She started off tentatively, her mouth unaccustomedly dry; “This is all very frightening, we’re relying on a lot of factors to go our way because if they don’t then this entire house could collapse down around us where we would probably drown…”

Miranda jerked away from Andy’s body and shot an incredulous, “are you really going there” look towards her.

Yes, Andy decided, she was; neither woman had discussed their fear at what they were facing and for both of their sakes she figured they needed to get it out there instead of giving it any more power by ignoring it.  When she was younger Andy had fought hard against that particular lesson but had finally learned it after about two years of therapy; therapy desperately needed to deal with a severe case of PTSD after a perfectly mundane school day had ended with an auto accident that took her best friend from her. 

They had been turning left out of the school parking lot; Jessica was driving and laughing in her carefree way about something that Andy had never been able to remember.  One minute life was simple, the next an unseen pickup truck was barreling through the school zone at three times the speed limit.  Andy had to be cut from the wreckage but had emerged with no long-lasting physical damage save for the one nasty scar along her left hip where the gear shift had partially impaled her, trapping her in the t-boned vehicle.  For Andy the emotional scars were the ones from which she had to work to recover as it was those moments immediately following Jess’ death that had devastated her.   

So at age fifteen and a half Andy had learned that if she pretended that everything was okay, then it was.  It wasn’t until she was seventeen that she truly understood that things buried never left you; they didn’t decompose like dead bodies, providing nourishment to a whole host of beings both warm-blooded and microscopic.  No, when you buried those things you least wanted to acknowledge they only grew in depth and scope, distorting reality, creating behaviors both out of character and destructive.  Lying to oneself, even if the lie is through disassociation from the truth by ignoring it, only lead to massive unhappiness and embarrassing and regretful emotional outbursts usually way out of proportion to what was actually warranted.

She became fully aware then of her actions of the past few months; she had been lying by omission to herself when it came to her feelings for Miranda.  She shot internal eyes skyward as that realization gave context for her earlier reactions; not so out of character after all.  That and being so cold as to be nearly hypothermic created the perfect environment for one of her unhealthy coping mechanisms to kick into high gear.  Coming back to the present she understood that if she were going to avoid one of Miranda’s coping mechanisms that she had better not give the woman an opportunity to regroup and as she stepped around the island to stand across from Miranda she continued on in a flat, informational voice.

“It probably wouldn’t happen quickly though; the way this house is constructed we’ll at least probably have some of it left so instead of immediately being swept away in one dramatic structural failure it’ll probably happen over hours.  Just like those people in that church in Galveston in 1900 something; some of them made it; some of them didn’t.”

“Andréa, please…”  Miranda nearly whispered; she had now turned fully towards her and was watching her in horrified fascination.  _What is this girl doing?!_

“The ones that didn’t make it; many of them were swept right out of the arms of their loved one…”

“Andréa! What is wrong with you?”  Now there was a bit more force and a hint of a plea in a voice that sounded about as far from the dragon lady as Andy had ever heard it.

“And those poor kids at the orphanage, all tied together by the nuns in a mistaken belief that they’d be safer that…”

“ Andrea…” Miranda voice rose and her stare nearly burned, “have you lost your mind?  Stop talking about this now!”  Miranda’s heart was pumping hard and she noted that her hands were shaking.

Andy’s eyes widened at both the volume and the more prosaic pronunciation of her name.  _Bingo._

“Miranda, we need to acknowledge…”

But Miranda would have none of it, her daughters having replaced the faceless children in that orphanage, her own self being ripped from their arms as they watched her die.  “We need to acknowledge nothing, Andréa, **_nothing_**!”

“Not thinking about something doesn’t make it less true.  We could both die tonight Miranda.”

“Bloody fucking **_hell_**!” Miranda was so rattled that her West Ham beginnings in East London temporarily hijacked her long-practiced American diction.  “You may find it easy to contemplate your own demise but my daughters need me, they need a mother to be there for them.  I can’t leave them alone to face this world, their father is hardly there for them; they barely know the man!  They would be alone, alone!!!”  Miranda pressed both hands to the kitchen island as she leaned forward, her voice rising a few decibels below outright shouting at the woman in front of her that dared to speak to her in such a manner; no one pushed her, **ever**.

“How dare you!”  Miranda looked down from where they were still glaring daggers into her assistant and, spying an empty bottle of Pellegrino not five inches from her right hand, jerkily picked it up and chucked it towards the heavily breathing brunette with all the force of her pent up feelings.  Anger, fear, loss and even heartbreak over what she had convinced herself that she could never have with Andréa; all of it bubbled up into one massive wave of energy that barely missed the focus of her rage, sailing past her by inches to end in a crescendo of glass fragments when it impacted the curving plaster wall some six feet behind where Andrea stood.

Both women stood in shock until Miranda flinched once again, the rage not sated.  But there was nothing else in close proximity to throw, nothing that she didn’t acknowledge that they would need at least, like the weather radio, or the short wave set; Miranda was angry beyond reason but that part cognizant of the need to not destroy the tools essential to them stayed her hand.  Instead she turned to the only other weapon she could readily access.

“How dare you.”  She glowered now, voice low and cutting.  “You know nothing little girl, **nothing** about what it means to be a mother; how badly it hurts to know that your children who you are supposed to protect may lose that protector.  How dare you carry-on blithely, not caring that your blathering recollection of historical tragedy is not only inappropriate but cruel!”  Miranda’s face was now red, the color extending down into the “V” contrasting vividly against the white of the silk blouse she’d not taken the time to change out of.  The black Marc Jacobs pants were still partially rolled and her bare feet coated with a light spackling of sand as they remained planted on the dark gray slate of the kitchen tile, hands now clenched at her sides as the signature hair, soaked when she’d held the door as Andy had brought in the furniture, curled in all directions with a slight frizz upon the drying ends. 

Andy thought in that moment she was never more beautiful but upon Miranda’s next set of words understood the many Buddhist teachings on duality that she had studied for a college philosophy course.

_To exult in the good in all things, to truly appreciate the elation of life, one must also experience the opposite of good and the depths of sadness._

“And to think, to think that perhaps you had managed to make _me_ think you actually might care.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you watch me; I’ve known for months that you watch me all the time.”

Andy’s stomach plummeted; this wasn’t how this whole thing was supposed to go down.  She thought that if she prodded her a bit that she would let out some of her pent up feelings and would then feel better able to call the girls.  That she’d be able to talk to them without worry of breaking down and worrying them even more.  Instead she’d made things immeasurably worse.

“Miranda, please, I wasn’t…” Andy’s voice squeaked in panic.

“All this time spent watching me, getting so good at learning what it is I need before I even know I need it.  I thought perhaps it was a crush, a youthful fanciful attraction that maybe you saw me as more than your superior.” Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed.  “But instead you were just looking for my weaknesses; learning where best you could inflict damage; isn’t that right, Andréa?”  She dragged out the syllables in her name and sneered.

“No!  Miranda, please I do care, more than you even know!  I just thought if I could get you to let out some of your fear, to acknowledge…”

“Oh bloody hell, that’s even worse!  You were playing shrink with me?!”  Miranda threw her hand up in the air and gestured wildly as she fixed her most imperious stare upon the clearly frantic woman before her.

“ ** _You_**.  With what, ten years maybe of independent thought under your belt? **_You_** who probably have experienced loss as no more than your teddy bear disappearing or your dog dying of old age.  What the hell gives **_you_** the right to push **_me_** where I don’t want to go?!” 

Andy stood stock still, mindful that a good number of her buttons were being pushed, that Miranda was hurt and taking it out on her; that she probably didn’t even mean it but she couldn’t stop the cascading sadness over the current state between them and of the intense memories of that horrible day that the tirade dredged up. Her lower lip began to tremble as her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh poor, poor Andy” Miranda sing-songed before she hardened. “You are not my mother, you are not my lover and you aren’t even my friend; you are my employee and you best remember that and **that** , **is** , **all**.”  

The force of Miranda’s words coupled with the crack of the flat of her hand on the marble counter reverberated through Andy like a slap and her gentle heart felt as though it was being pushed through a sieve but this was one instance that she was not going to allow those always ready tears to fall.  No; she may have went about it the wrong way and it hadn’t really been the reaction she sought but she had provoked Miranda and she needed to take ownership of her actions.  Part of taking that responsibility was to not play the victim and thus allow the tears to be seen; of course neither was she a punching bag.  As much as Miranda’s words cut, those words also reminded her of how little Miranda actually knew about her.  That lack of knowing is what hurt worst of all and Andy knew that it was within that space which she needed to act. 

Since the dynamic between them prevented any sort of growth beyond boss and assistant it was time to change the paradigm.  The course for her was very clear now and with it came a calmness that surprised her.  So she lifted her head and held it high, meeting and holding the sharp crystal gaze and her words, when they were finally spoken after an electric ten seconds had passed, were both firm and soft.

“No Miranda, **that** is not _all_.  I quit.”

It was then that her courage seemed to evaporate and before the other woman could respond Andy turned on her heel and hurried up the stairs deciding there and then that she would be the one to inspect and secure the third floor windows and doors; alone.


	4. Chapter 4

At Andréa’s declaration and subsequent exit Miranda collapsed on the couch in front of that over-large, and still brightly colored swirling screen of impending disaster and allowed her posture to curl into itself as she held her head in her hands.  Usually so calm and cool with nearly every move measured, there was no strategic thinking going on at that moment; Andréa’s “I quit” echoed on a continuous loop that fused with her anxiety about the chances for their survival. 

The weather outside was growing increasingly turbulent and even though the well-insulated house was surprisingly quiet the lashing rains on the windows served as a constant reminder that she was trapped; trapped in this house, with another human being that she… _No!_   She shot out of her seat, using the expulsion of physical effort to once again silence those meandering, terrifying and ultimately pointless thoughts.  Returning to the kitchen Miranda picked up the list and tried to focus on it but her hands were trembling so hard that the paper shook. 

_Unacceptable!_  

She moved to the under-counter wine safe and pulled a bottle of some white variety, neither label nor vintage mattering, skillfully removed the cork and poured a full glass. 

By the time she had cleaned up the shards of green glass from her uncharacteristic meltdown and completed her inspection of the second floor her wine glass was empty and she had managed to push all thoughts of Andréa to the side.  However she was reminded of the willful presence when she noted another item had been checked as completed, and her eyes narrowed.  _She must have been down here briefly when I was checking the far rooms before scurrying back upstairs_.  Her lips pursed.

That left just two tasks; the last something that would take the both of them to accomplish.  She rolled her eyes and poured another glass; before accessing a large pantry type room that was located in the center of the house behind the kitchen.  They had already pulled a couple of flashlights from here earlier in case the power was cut before expected but now she gathered a variety of lanterns and dispersed them between the kitchen, living room and main bath.  The Shiavone’s had told them that the power here probably wouldn’t make it much past the initial storm surge as the scouring effect of the water pushing its way in would unearth the buried power and cable lines.

There was a large generator that was integrated into the home’s electrical system and they had emailed both of their accounts the instructions for its usage as well as a directive as to where to store the gasoline while the storm raged.  That was their final task, retrieving the fuel from the shed located in the back yard about a hundred or so feet away from the garage entrance, and bringing it into the house.  Both women had been rather incredulous at that particular instruction but were assured that the carefully constructed storage nooks and top of the line air-tight cans allowed for safe, temporary storage. 

The generator was housed in a specially designed room that would keep carbon monoxide from entering the living space once the vents were opened but they wouldn’t be able to run it until the storm had passed as the vents had to remain closed to ensure the structural integrity of the house. So, while they had enough fuel to keep the refrigerator and freezer cold, run one television and a few lights for at least a week, the biggest issue they were going to face once the power was disrupted would be that it was going to get pretty warm and humid without the air conditioning to circulate the air.

She hoped that a little discomfort would be all that they’d have to deal with.

l X l X l X l 

It took surprisingly little time to ensure that all was as ready as it could be on the upper level but Andy knew enough time hadn’t passed for her to face her now former employer.  It had been barely enough time for her hands to stop shaking, she mused, so looked around to find something else to do.

One and a half hours later; a mere ninety minutes since Andy had quit Runway magazine and nearly three hours since they realized that they weren’t leaving the island Andy had done everything possible to delay the inevitable. She’d pulled out clean and dry clothes to change into once they had finished their retrieval of the generator fuel, rearranged her two packed bags so several changes of clothes and her toiletry kit were ready to take downstairs, even pulled out her camera and took several pictures of the water that cascaded down the special glass that could withstand both wind and impacts, the latest bands of rain the heaviest yet. 

She’d finally called her parents and explained where she was and the situation they were in; her usually unshakeable mother needed a moment away from the phone while her dad, who always had a love of architecture and, she was surprised to find, a particular fondness for design focused upon structural survivability in extreme conditions, discussed with her what he had read about the engineering of houses such as the one they were in.  When her mother returned to the conversation a few minutes later her voice was shaky but she’d managed to find her control; her daughter had been through a lot in her short life and she had to believe that this hurricane wouldn’t take her away.  She needed to help Andy believe it too so she put on her well-practiced optimistic voice in hopes of buoying Andy’s spirits. 

“You had better call us every hour baby girl!”  Louise wasn’t ready for the conversation to end but knew Andy still had preparations to make.

“Mom, we’re going to need to conserve our batteries and the phone lines are probably going to be jammed for a while after this goes through; I’ll text you periodically just to let you know how it’s going and I may need you guys to monitor what the storm’s doing if we lose our internet connection.  It’s a satellite connection but you never know, especially if it’s like satellite TV; with the rain we’re having it’s a wonder we still have it.”

“Of course honey.” Richard gentled his voice and allowed the love he had for her to come through bringing tears to her eyes.  “You know we won’t get a lick of sleep tonight, we’ll be watching everything we can find; just let us know if you need updates.”

So now she was back to staring out the upper balcony windows at the spectacle that wasn’t even close to what they could yet expect. 

_What the hell am I going to do?  How am I going to be in the same room with her?_

A heavy sigh split the near silence of the room and she allowed herself several more minutes of watching as the ocean stretched its fingers higher up the shoreline despite the fact that high tide had been an hour before.  She shook herself slightly and began to move, this was too important to allow a little bit of emotional turmoil to stand in the way of what needed done.  They had to get the gasoline into the house and waiting any longer would only tempt fate. 

l X l X l X l

After placing the lanterns, checking the charge status of her cell phone (noting that Andréa’s was missing) and spare laptop batteries, looking repeatedly out the glass doors, watching the local news and refilling her glass one more time Miranda finally sat at the kitchen island, back to the rain sheeting down the glass doors and picked up her cell phone.  She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do; she really didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily but neither did she want to face this night without hearing their voices again, without having told them how very much she loved them.

_Oh for the love of god, how am I going to do this without losing it?!_  The battle with her emotions was wearing her down and the three glasses of wine that she’d consumed seemed to be having the opposite effect of what was intended; instead of shoring up the wall between her emotions and the world it felt now as if that wall wasn’t even in existence.  So she sat rooted on the wooden stool staring blankly at her phone as silent tears coursed down her face.

So many things were wrong right now; this storm, her daughters being too young to deal with her in this state and, of course, Andréa.

Miranda shook her head and tapped the cell phone to her bottom lip; _merde, merde, merde_.  What she wouldn’t give to have that entire exchange wiped from existence.    _Did she really quit?  Did I really say those things to her?  She probably hates me now._

As if merely the thought conjured the flesh and blood woman, when Miranda lifted her head to stare out into the space beyond the kitchen she met instead the warm, full eyes of her employee; no, wait, former employee. 

Neither women dared speak first nor did either want to be the first to break the contact, so at least a minute passed as they stared at one another.

Miranda couldn’t quite remember why they even had fought before.  No, that wasn’t quite right, as her thoughts of only a minute ago reminded her; she had escalated the incident  She didn’t mean for it to become what it did but that “it” became too potent and blew up in such a way that now they may never recover.  Hurricane or no hurricane, she may have lost Andréa without even fully understanding that she wanted her.  It was at this thought that her breath hitched and to her horror a broken gasp escaped its harsh confinement.

l X l X l X l

When Andy descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen she didn’t expect to see Miranda sitting in much the same place as earlier.  The recollection of the argument and her own part in its escalation prevented her instinctual retreat by just long enough for Miranda to lift her head and meet her eyes.

The sight of the tears on the pale, nearly flawless cheeks kicked Andy back to the first time she’d seen her as such.  Paris.  In Paris Andy had confirmed what she had long suspected; that Miranda Priestly was not _The Dragon_ twenty-four seven.  It was then also that she knew Miranda the woman was someone she could love.  But within moments the icy façade had returned and Andy was reminded quite pointedly that all that was required of her was to “do her job”.

Well things were a bit different now.  Andy was in love with Miranda, however newly accepted, and Andy was no longer constrained by the strictures of that job.  When the jarring sob escaped her first instinct was to rush in and offer comfort but this time she paused; there was something in that single exhalation of emotion that kept her rooted in place.  It was a credit to Andy’s maturity or perhaps it was just having worked so long and so closely with the woman that she understood that now was not a moment in which Miranda would either want or welcome comfort. 

Instead she stood as a witness, watching in amazed silence as Miranda applied her incredible will, gathering in the outer expression of her turmoil.  This was the woman who moved heaven and earth to accomplish all that she had in her lifetime, meeting all comers who threatened her accomplishments with ruthless, decisive action.  This was the woman who she admired greatly for her determination and drive. 

But, Andy thought with a shroud of sadness, this was also the woman who kept herself separate, who maintained distance from emotional attachment.  Except for her daughters, Andy believed that Miranda had let no one else in and it brought up from within her a rush of her own will, her own determination to meet this Miranda on a field of battle.

But Andy was not a conqueror and had no desire to become one so she saw the battleground in a way different from most.  She did not wish to defeat Miranda by breaking her spirit; that was the way of her ex-husbands.  No, Andy would meet her half-way and prove that there could be victory in a truce; that declaring peace as the prize could be a worthy goal and that sharing that prize a desirable outcome.

l X l X l X l

The once again silent tears were sliding down her throat so much so that she felt as if she were being strangled.  _It would be so fitting; my own emotions killing me._   It was a fleeting thought that at any other time would have provided minor amusement but now it was just another example of her failure.  _Oh gods just stop it; stop the confinement on this island, in this house; stop this ridiculous hurricane; stop Andréa being so beautiful; fuck, fuck, FUCK,_ the internal voice grew louder with each imprecation and Miranda cringed at how her thoughts had devolved, right along with her earlier actions, into obscenity,still the bewildering question had to be asked, _why does it have to be this way?!_   

Miranda knew that it was she who was being ridiculous, and after several more moments of staring at the protruding veins in the hand that clutched her phone tightly to the point of near pain she decided that if anything needed to stop it was all of this, this… _shit,_ that was keeping her from getting anywhere. _So, stop the crying, stop the wallowing and the self-recrimination; stop the wishing for the absolute to change; this isn’t who you are; **you** are stronger than this!_  

There simply wasn’t time at the moment for what she saw as self-indulgent behavior.  It was getting darker out and they needed to get a job done.  With a furrowed brow she focused on relaxing her fingers and she set her cell phone down carefully.  Then she concentrated her efforts on stretching those fingers out and lowering her palms onto the granite counter.  She noted the coolness of the air-conditioned stone and grasped onto the sensation, visualizing that the chill moved up her arms and throughout her body; unlocking all of the pockets of stress, doubt and confusion.  Staring at the pattern in the granite she traced random pathways with her eyes that provided welcome distraction until most of the negativity either was neatly packed away or banished.   

Andy saw the shift but held back any comment despite it meaning that she had to bite the inside of her lower lip to the point of nearly drawing blood.  She’d had the last words earlier and she felt it fitting that Miranda should be the one who would dictate where things needed to go next.

lXlXlXl

Miranda’s voice, when finally she could make it work, sounded strained and a bit hoarse even to her own ears. 

“We need to…”

She shook her head ever so slightly and cleared her throat.

“We need to go outside before we lose the light.” She pushed herself up from her seat and pulled the nearly dry rain jacket off of its hook.

Andy experienced a short lag between absorption of Miranda’s words and her brain telling her limbs that it was time to move but since Miranda wasn’t looking at her, instead staring seemingly unseeing out of the glass doors, her sluggish response went unnoticed.  She followed Miranda’s example and grabbed the other jacket, ready within seconds to venture out into the treacherous gloom.

She took the lead and opened the door, remembering at the last minute to grab the ring of keys that would unlock the shed and was relieved beyond measure when she stepped onto the patio to find that they were in one of those lulls between rain bands so there was only the steady wind that had been their constant companion for the last few hours and a light rain.

They followed the curving staircase down and silently made their way across first the asphalt and then the soaked sand grateful that the added moisture provided easier footing.  The bright white of the sand in these parts of the Florida panhandle, so much like sugar, assisted also with reflecting what little light was left in the sky and from the spotlight affixed to a pole where the drive met the backyard.

While both women were feeling emotionally drained and mentally a bit sluggish their bodies knew that they needed to move quickly, that the respite afforded them by the massive storm system still many hours away from bringing its full fury, could be retracted at any minute.

The fuel was stored in metal five gallon cans of which there were twenty in total.  Andy tried to ignore the math but found as she lugged the first container across the sand that her mind fixated on it.  One hundred gallons of gasoline at eight pounds a gallon equaled eight hundred pounds.  Five gallons in one container equaled forty pounds.  Forty pounds each trip trudging through the sand, the awkwardness of the load, the steps, which on her second trip she had counted at thirty-six and her overall exhaustion all added up to just about one of the most physically demanding activities she’d ever attempted. She’d wished that they could just use the elevator but they couldn’t risk being caught in it if the power went out, nor could they risk if a container were to be stranded within the confined space as the heat and airtight space may create issues, however slim in probability, of the incendiary type if the seal were in any way compromised.

Andy watched as Miranda passed her and moved ahead of her up the stairs, it was trip number four and she could tell that the woman was feeling it every bit as much as she was herself and yet she’d not voiced one word of complaint beyond a few sighs and the groan Miranda had just let slip as she set the load down on the patio floor beside the rest of the cans.  _Amazing; she’s what? Twenty-two years my senior and I feel like I’m the one trying to keep up with her!_

Miranda was dead tired; she was sore and she realized that she hadn’t eaten since the granola, yogurt and blueberries that served as her lunch around noon.  It was going on eight thirty and she cursed because now that she focused on it she realized she was incredibly hungry.  Plus she had a headache and she felt queasy; _yes the wine was a brilliant idea Miranda.  I should have waited until after this nearly unbearable task was complete, but no I had to get…Stop it!  Focus;_ _you can do this; just because you’ve got twenty some odd years on that woman doesn’t mean you aren’t going to finish this!_   So she rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms as she headed back across the trail that she had practically memorized in terms of every bump, dip and grass clump.

But by trip six they both were just about spent.  They sat on the bottom step allowing the rain to seep through their clothes, having removed their jackets due to being overheated from the exertion, and stared at the four cans resting in the sand. 

“We’ve got to figure out a better way to do this.”  Andy moaned as she rubbed her back.

“I agree.”  Miranda’s reply was quite terse; Andréa’s moan was creating tiny bursts of havoc despite her extreme exhaustion and she found that she was both amazed and appalled.  _Really, Miranda, seriously?!  You’re sitting in the rain facing a potentially life-threatening situation and you’re getting aroused?!_   But she was too tired to fight it and just allowed the sensation to be as she examined their predicament.

“I thought I saw some rebar in the shed…”

Andy perked up, an image of its use popping into her head; but then she deflated slightly.  “Will it hold the weight?”

“Only one way to find out; we’ll probably only be able to move one at a time anyway…” Miranda swallowed her pride and haltingly admitted, “I’m not sure I could handle two.” 

Andy smiled gently as she glanced over at her and said without triumph; “That’s okay, I don’t think I could either.”

The two women then settled into a quiet rhythm, easily able to match one another’s steps as they held the bar between them with a single container dangling by its handle.  Before they embarked upon their second run they had to do a bit of adjusting as the metal was rough and unfortunately Miranda’s delicate blouse was ruined both by rust transfer and tiny tears so Andy thought to grab a couple of dish towels, folding them in half to use as padding.  Instead of giving it to Miranda she automatically placed the towel on Miranda’s shoulder freezing for a moment as she realized that she’d breeched her personal space; but Miranda hadn’t even flinched, so, being the sort who would always see how far she could push couldn’t resist a slight squeeze to the pale, bare forearm before quickly backing away.

Miranda for her part sucked in her lower lip for a moment but focused immediately on loading the rebar for the next run.

It was forty-five minutes later that they finished bringing all of the containers up the steps.  Before she could lose her initiative Andy headed back to the shed on the pretense of wanting to check if there was anything else useful to grab before locking it up when really she wanted to investigate something that had caught her eye earlier. 

It was a bright narrow bag about three feet long and her face split into the first full smile it had seen in hours upon confirmation that it was indeed what she’d thought.  She grabbed it, slung it over her shoulders by the wide strap and with renewed energy headed back to the house where she stored it in the pantry without Miranda seeing.  She figured that she would be optimistic about their chances and this would be her symbol, albeit hidden for the time being, of that hopefulness.

Of course the sky decided to open up just as they were preparing to take the cans into the house so by the time everything was stored in their proper places they were both soaked to the bone and shivering; a trail of water on the tile floor that would need to be cleaned up if for no other reason than not slipping and breaking their necks on the mess.

Miranda observed Andréa’s baleful expression as she stared at the floor and could relate; the last thing she felt like doing right now was wiping up the water and sand.  Spying the towels that Andréa had shed earlier that afternoon Miranda proceeded to lay them out over the trail and smirked.  “Really, I know that neither of us wishes for one of us to take a spill any more than we want to expend the energy to do anything about it.  At least this way we’ll remember where to be careful.”

Andy kept her dripping self on the white terry cloth pathway, attempting to wring out her shirt to no avail.  She wrung out the soft material of her yoga pants as best she could and allowed a tired smile to curl her lips.  “Thank god; I don’t think I had it in me, seriously.  That wiped me out.  I’m going to go take a quick shower, get the sand off me and change and then I’m going to cook something, you interested?” 

To say that Miranda was relieved that Andréa was at least attempting some normal conversation was an understatement and she was careful with her response.  “Yes Andréa, thank you.”  She made eye contact with her and her voice softened.  “I’d really appreciate it.”

Andy allowed her smile to broaden and then frowned as she considered her shirt once again.  Without thinking she pulled the long-sleeved garment over her head, leaving her in a sports bra, as she wrung out the garment in the sink.

Miranda’s eyes were unwilling captives to the vision before her; taking in the tanned, stretched torso unseen by Andréa as the shirt covered her vision while she struggled to remove the wet material from her body.  Despite what she may have said to her in the past, Andréa’s body was a work of art with well-developed abdominal muscles and exquisitely proportioned curves.  Miranda’s mouth went dry as she helplessly followed her actions at the sink, back and upper arm muscles flexing as she wrung out the shirt.

Andy, who had a sixth sense when it came to Miranda, could nearly feel the intense stare on her body and struggled to maintain the pretense that she was completely unaware.  Her hands shook as she worked the water from the material both because of the intense scrutiny and the soft exchange they’d shared only moments before.  Once she’d done all she could with the shirt she headed for the stairs without turning to make further eye contact or conversation; sure that neither of them were ready to deal with Andy catching Miranda in such a vulnerable position.


	5. Chapter 5

Andy, freshly showered and somewhat refreshed if not a bit weary, balanced two plates along one arm with a glass of ice water in hand and utensils and napkins in the other.

“So, what’s the latest?” 

She settled cross-legged onto the couch leaving as much space as possible between herself and Miranda and set her burden on the coffee table in front of them.

After having taken her own shower, taking advantage of running water while they still had it, Miranda had been engaged in watching the television newscasts, switching between CNN, The Weather Channel and one of the local network affiliates while at the same time reading through the forecast discussions for Layla on the NOAA weather site on her laptop.  She sipped her iced tap water, wrinkling her nose at its excessive chlorination despite the faucet filter, secretly anticipating the loss of that particular utility so she could enjoy the bottled resources they had stocked.  She received her plate with a murmured “thank you” and prepared her distillation.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have this conversation after we’ve eaten?”

“That good, huh?”  Her stomach growled loudly.  “Honestly I’m so hungry there really isn’t much you could say right now that would put me off my food but if you’d rather wait…” Andy was very mindful, given her earlier misguided conversational topic, of granting Miranda the space to choose when to talk.

Miranda sighed as part of her just wanted to get the conversation started however she was hungry; perhaps more hungry than she had ever remembered being, at least as an adult.  “I would much rather wait until I didn’t have to speak with my mouth full if that’s alright with you.”

Andy nodded and they both focused on their meals, demolishing them within ten minutes.

“This was very good Andréa; you cooked the chicken perfectly.  Thank you.”

It was probably the sixth “thank you” that Andy had received that day and she was finally starting to not be as surprised whenever it occurred.

“My pleasure.” She smiled warmly and then sipped her water, waiting patiently.

“The hurricane’s eye is still about 140 miles southwest of us and its moving North/Northeast at 8 mph.”

Andy interrupted at this point; “it’s slowed down?”

“Unfortunately, yes, and right over some of the warmest waters of the gulf.  It’s a very unpredictable storm, the head of the National Hurricane Center has been giving updates on CNN and referenced Hurricane Opal in 1995 when describing Layla in terms of how quickly it changed direction, strength and how it took everyone by surprise.  Opal’s rapid growth and directional change severely reduced the amount of time for evacuations before the tropical storm winds set in.” The ‘much like what happened to us’ went unsaid.  Miranda attempted a slight smile which turned into a grimace as she settled farther into the couch, her back muscles in spasm. 

Andy caught the obvious expression of pain but since Miranda chose not to call attention to it she decided to leave her be with it; cataloguing it instead for later retrieval.  

Miranda focused for a moment on letting out the tenseness set off in the rest of her back muscles and decided that once they were done talking that she’d go find the ibuprofen.  “It’s not all bad news; there is some shear that is expected, the forward motion will probably increase in velocity at some point and an upper level high is going to be bringing in drier air…”

Andy blinked and stared at the other woman who continued to present a very detailed and comprehensive scientific analysis of the storm, the expected track, atmospheric conditions impacting that track and a whole host of other data that she had apparently memorized since she barely looked at the notes she had taken.  Andy felt like she was in one of the planning meetings blocking out a new issue of Runway.

She looked on bemused, listening with a small quirk to her lips.  She noted that Miranda had ceased her monologue and was looking at her with a question in her eyes.  _Ooops._

“What?”  Miranda felt not a little pique with Andréa’s apparent lack of attention; this coupled with her still complaining back made her words a bit sharper than intended. “Were you even listening to a word I was saying?”

With a short and sharp shake of her head Andy pulled back from her musings but promptly fell right back into them; in that moment she realized just how brilliant the woman before her truly was.  It was a gift to be able to adapt so quickly to a situation, recognize the essential elements, find relevant data, parse it and then derive a conclusion that would shape action; or in their case just let them know what to expect.  “Yeah, it’s just…” Her voice trailed off for a moment and she looked a bit vexed, the usual awareness that always hummed under the surface for Miranda blending with this new found understanding and it made her… _what?  What is it?_

Miranda wondered now if Andréa was perhaps distressed by the information.  Yes, it was not looking good but it may not be a worst case scenario after all.  Still, the look in her eye didn’t quite match with fear; there was more going on there but try as she might by searching the woman for her usual “tells” this was an altogether different look.

Andy’s eyes widened abruptly and the slight tan her face sported due to the recent exposure to the sun, despite her SPF 30 lotion, reddened.  _Hot, hot, hot._   Christ, Miranda’s brain was making her want to just say “fuck pretense”, wrap her limbs around the other woman and not let go.  But it wasn’t only a want to map every inch of her beautiful body with fingers, tongue and teeth; she was awash in a sudden intense desire to just _know her_ and that was a feeling like none she’d ever experienced, an arousal that moved beyond the physical.  Maybe it _could_ be called attraction and Andy mused what the word truly meant. 

_Fascination; allurement; magnetic pull._   Yeah, Miranda was like a magnet for Andy, drawing the iron in her blood towards her in an irresistible siren’s call and every layer revealed only heightened the need to fully be within her sphere.  No one in her twenty-eight years had ever done this to her and she highly doubted that anyone else ever would.

With each second of Andréa’s continued silence as she stared seemingly into the space between the two of them Miranda worried that she was slipping back to her earlier state.  Her color though was markedly different so Miranda took advantage of Andréa’s preoccupation and studied her with her trademark sharp, laser-like focus. 

The blush, the dreaming quality; she’d seen those on differing occasions, but no matter what outward sign Andréa would be displaying at any given time there was an intelligence underlying the natural born beauty; she was indeed a rare creature.  It had become clear to Miranda, shortly after hiring her, that Andréa’s intelligence was of a type that allowed for quick situational assessments remarkably coupled with the confidence to take the initiative; to act where many would drop back and let the situation proceed without them.  All blended with eyes that could see into someone’s very soul and lips that were so lusciously full and tempting that a person would follow her anywhere. 

An urgent compulsion to collapse the gap between them on the couch and bring Andréa back to her current surroundings with a searing kiss raced upwards from her toes to her head causing havoc with the places in between that were now entirely too wet and needy.  _Why am I denying myself this wonderful creature again?_   In that moment Miranda couldn’t think of one good reason, one argument that would hold up in a gentle breeze, never mind a hurricane.

_Ah, right then._ She wrestled for a moment with her newly awakened libido, almost giving in and reaching out if only for just one simple caress.  _But no, no; this cannot be._  The young woman, younger by a good twenty plus years, was just about to hit her sexual stride while she, she could only look forward to years of decline. 

Declining drive, declining looks, declining everything; Miranda felt suddenly very, very old and cursed the universe and its timing.

Why the hell the girl would want anything to do with her beyond a few sexual encounters until the newness of nailing “The Ice Queen” wore off she could not see.  Attraction was so flighty, so contrary.  No, Miranda was not about to open herself up to such a thing.   She’d done it in the past of course, had sexual encounters that didn’t go beyond the sex but with Andréa she just couldn’t and examining why was not something she was going to contemplate. So Miranda reached out once more to find an anchor of justification for her rejection of “Andréa as possibility” and found the conflict of earlier.  She focused on the “I quit” and allowed her righteous indignation to keep her rooted in her seat.

Andy finally remembered that she had a voice and that it was well past the time for her to use it.  Pretending that a ridiculous amount of time had not passed while they sat looking at one another she summoned as normal of a voice as possible.

“I was listening.” She started quietly and her voice strengthened as she summarized. “The hurricane developed faster than forecast; changed direction; sped up and has now slowed down.  At the rate of speed it’s currently traveling and the distance from the coast we can expect the main part of the storm to get to us…” Andy quickly did the math.  “…in about 20 hours.  You did say that we were pretty much in the center of the forecast track, right?”  Andy grinned internally but took great pains to keep her expression neutral as she watched Miranda’s face intently.

_Will wonders never cease?_  She was convinced that the young woman had journeyed to a completely different world.  “Yes Andréa, you are correct.”

They sat in silence until Andréa shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her biceps.  “My arms feel like rubber bands.  I can only imagine how I’m going to feel tomorrow.”

Miranda snorted.  “Oh please, I have twenty some years on you; trust me, you will survive.”  _Yes, good job Miranda, remind her of how many years separate the two of you; focus her on just how impossible anything between the two of you would be._   Her internal voice was mocking and disappointment bloomed within her.

“Yeah, you do.” Andy was exhausted and couldn’t restrain her mouth from speaking without a filter.  “But you’d never be able to tell from today, you were pretty amazing; I was hard pressed to keep up.”

Soft eyes caught Miranda’s and held; respect, admiration and…something, else, something unnamable, lurked beneath the surface.  She stood suddenly, breaking the tableau.

“Yes, well I need some ibuprofen; shall I get you a couple as well?”

“Just one please.”

“Only one?”

“Yeah.”  Andy’s response was languid as she elongated her body in a joint popping stretch that arched her back and outlined her ample curves as they strained against the material of her white tee-shirt.  Even muted by the confines of what had to be another sports bra, she was magnificent to behold.

Miranda saw it then, an image so clear she could almost reach out and touch it; Andréa arcing into a very intense and satisfying orgasm.  _Oh please help me!_  

She turned without a word and hurried to her room to get her purse; Andréa’s innocent “Mmm, I’m very sensitive” short-circuiting her ability to pay attention to where she was going.  Her foot caught on the towels spread over the kitchen floor and she nearly pitched headfirst to the tile, only a desperate grab for the counter keeping her upright.

Instead of berating her clumsiness she marveled at the feeling of lightness that she allowed acknowledgement of, if only for a few seconds.  Miranda felt like a giddy teenager and savored the unfamiliarity of it before tucking it back away lest it become too entrenched.  She was on dangerous ground and vowed to be stronger; she had to be, otherwise she would be lost.  _Unacceptable!_

She took as long as possible to retrieve the bottle of pain reliever using every second to shore up her composure.  She crossed the threshold between the kitchen and living room area and took a deep breath, lifting her head a little higher; a long ingrained signal to the rest of her body that it was time to circle the wagons.  Being “The Dragon” took a lot of energy but she had long ago refined the physical cues to do so.

lXlXlXl

Andréa recognized on some level that a lot more time had passed than necessary for Miranda to find her purse and the pain medicine but eventually she found her way back into the room and handed over the small orange tablet.  Andréa was engaged in watching one of The Weather Channel reporters as he stood in lashing rain on a pier on Pensacola Beach and murmured a quiet thank you.  She shook her head and spoke with some amusement.

“This guy is such a drama queen. You’d think he was stranded on an island with the way he’s acting; instead, when it comes time he’ll scurry back to his cushy hotel room and then probably stand on his balcony for five minutes as he tries to make everyone believe he’s on the very edge of being swept away.”

Andy stopped talking as she noted the figure who had settled on the opposite end of the couch, silver head canted to one side, electric gaze piercing.

“Uhh…” Andy this time couldn’t quite figure out why she’d said what she did, for that matter, why that whole Galveston reference earlier had even popped into her head.

“Miranda, I’m sorry…”

“No, no.” Miranda cut her off but her voice was more contemplative than angry.  “I think I just realized something about you.”

Andy rolled her eyes but was pretty sure that Miranda didn’t see as she was turned away; unfortunately the blush she could feel burning her neck and face was quite noticeable.

“Oh don’t be embarrassed Andréa, we all cope how we cope.  You just have an unfortunate propensity for voicing the worst case scenario with a highly descriptive flair; not so comfortable for those around you but, nonetheless, a very good trait for a writer.”

Andy risked turning back to face the other woman to confirm that there would be no harsh rebuke and was met with one of Miranda’s patented blank looks although there was that slight tightening around the eyes that usually signaled amusement.

“Uh, I’m not sure what to say to that.”  Andy pulled at the fabric of her yoga pants.

“Don’t say anything.” Miranda stood and headed towards the kitchen where she picked up her phone.  “It’s closing in on eleven and nearly too late to call them, but I need to speak to my girls.”

“Do you want me to make myself scarce?”  Andy started to rise from her comfortable spot.

“No. Stay.”

Miranda’s tone was neutral enough but something in her voice tipped off Andy that there was a “please” buried in there somewhere.  She shrugged and took another swig of her ice water while turning down the volume on the TV with the remote.

Miranda had already dialed and nodded a quick thank you to Andréa for the courtesy; she counted the rings until a female voice picked up.

“Elizabeth…”  It wasn’t all that difficult to relay her current situation to her former mother-in-law, the woman always had had a way of calming Miranda’s sometimes manic expressions of focus.  Even though her ex-husband was for all intents and purposes a selfish Lothario with little interest in his offspring, it was his father he favored; his mother being the exact opposite.  Elizabeth Worthington had always been there for Caro and Cass and the girls both loved her; it was on that fact alone that Miranda had made sure to continue a warm relationship with the woman.  

“Yes, at the current movement they are predicting another twenty hours until landfall, but the thinking now is that it will once again speed up.”

Elizabeth, having spoken with Miranda countless times over the years was easily able to discern the strain the situation was placing on her former daughter-in-law.  “So what does that mean for you?”  They had all been on edge when Miranda had not called that evening for her usual check-in and she had been hopeful that it was simply the editor being once again caught up in her work.

“I don’t know; it may mean it will keep its current strength, it could weaken; it could even shift direction.”

“So; unpredictable?” Her cultured voice held a slight edge.

“Yes, very unpredictable; we’ll know more in the morning.  Have the girls gone to bed yet?”

“No, they‘ve been awaiting your call.  They have both been worried that we hadn’t heard from you but Cassidy more so.  She’s been glued to The Weather Channel, convinced that you were still down there.”

Miranda shook her head, _that girl and her intuition_. 

At the long pause Elizabeth decided to tread into unknown territory.  While Miranda and she had always maintained a very cordial, and perhaps even warm, relationship, they had never really discussed anything of import that did not involve her grandchildren.

“How are you holding up?  You are not there alone are you?”

“I am doing about as well as could be expected; you know how much the unknown has always thrilled me.”  They both chuckled and then Miranda added; “and no, I am not alone.”  Her eyes unconsciously lifted and met the warm gaze that had turned towards her at hearing the track that the conversation was taking.  Their eyes held and Miranda’s voice quieted, “my assistant…” _No, she is no longer your assistant_ , a very bitter internal snipe reminded her but Elizabeth didn’t need to be privy to the drama that had been unfolding over the past few hours.

Instead Miranda returned to the pending conversation with her daughters; now very unsure of whether or not to tell them she was in danger. In a very uncharacteristic loss of fortitude she allowed the ever-competent mask to slip; mindful of Andréa’s presence but not really caring.  The younger woman had already seen plenty of the “real” Miranda that day and besides, she was no longer her employee was she?  Hell, after this is all over there was a very real chance she’d never see her again.

The intense ache at that particular thought shook her even further from her usual equanimity.  

“What do you think I should do Elizabeth?”  Her voice was as near to pleading as she would allow; _too bad she can’t tell me what to do about Andréa as well_.  “Do I tell them where I am, or perhaps…”

“Yes.” Elizabeth was firm.  “You need to tell them; be honest.  But focus on where you are; you say the house is hurricane-proof?  I’ll help them research it; it will take their minds off the danger when they can focus on something other than the storm.”

Miranda swallowed a suddenly very large lump in her throat.  “Thank you; you don’t know what it means to me to know they are not having to deal with this alone.”

“Miranda, you don’t have to worry about them, if I have any say in it they’ll be too busy on the internet learning everything there is to know about where you’re staying.” 

Before Miranda could voice her gratitude once again Elizabeth continued. “Now, let’s get them on here.”

Miranda stayed her shaking hand and focused on the pattern woven into her Michael Kors cargo style pants.  Before she could allow the emotions to run rampant the breathless sound of first Cassidy and then Caroline melded together over the phone now placed into speaker mode.  She had to hold the phone far away from her ear at the loud squeals.

“Mom!”

Andy watched as an aspect of the formidable editor she had never borne witness to manifested before her very eyes.  Unlike Paris; there it had been more a portrait of Miranda in sadness; now yes, there was some of the sadness present whenever the woman felt she was disappointing her daughters, but she was also unsure and vulnerable; her heart ached as she could only imagine how painful this entire exchange was going to be for her.  The urge to reach out and offer some sort of comfort was overwhelming and she had to draw the hand closest to Miranda into a tight fist lest it wander to a place no doubt unwelcome.

It took every last ounce of self-control that Miranda had ever practiced not to burst into tears at the excitement in her daughters’ voices.  “Yes, Cass, Caro; how are my babies doing tonight?”

“Moooom!  How many times do we have to tell you…” Cassidy began.

“…we’re **_not_** babies!  We’re teenagers!” Caroline completed.

She forced a lightness that not been present since the first gust of wind blew in from the southwest.  “Of course not, literally; but you know that I love you and you’ll always be my babies, right?”  Her eyes filled with liquid and her lips formed a tight-lipped line.

Andy finally lost the battle she was waging with herself and scooted several inches closer towards the middle of the couch and reached out her hand covering lightly Miranda’s which had been involved in an uncharacteristic fidget with the piping along the edge of the cushion. 

Both women paused, Andréa awaiting rejection and Miranda in shock that Andréa had worked up the nerve to dare touch her.  But Andréa’s hand was warm and instead of an awkward intrusion she found comfort, something desperately needed, so allowed it to remain. 

“I guess.” Caroline’s voice pouted; it was an argument neither of them were ever going to win.

“Mom?” This was Cassidy and she could tell that the time for pleasantries had passed; needing to shore up the strength to continue she turned her hand so its back was against the couch and palm touching Andréa’s.  She was surprised when there was no retreat but more so that no further entanglement ensued; instead their hands merely rested, palm to palm as the conversation continued.

“Yes Cass.”

“Wh…where are you?”  She had to hand it to her youngest; she was fearless, despite the worried tremble, she didn’t let it stop her.

“We are still on St. George’s dear.”

“MOM!!!” Both voices shouted into the phone so loudly that Andréa could hear.  “Mom!  You can’t be on an island when the storm comes!  It’s going to knock down all the houses with the storm surge! Shit, I can’t believe this, how could you stay there?!”

“Cassidy Marie Worthington you stop that right now!”  Miranda sat up straighter but didn’t move her hand away from Andréa’s; instead she tightly gripped it, squeezing it sharply in emphasis.

“But mom…”  Caroline’s voice was softer but no less concerned.

“No, both of you will listen.  The storm was never supposed to head towards the island, it was never supposed to get so big and we were supposed to have had plenty of time to leave but our car wouldn’t start and the tropical storm winds grew very intense, very quickly so they had to close the bridge.  We did everything we could think of but we are both resigned to remaining here in this house; this **_hurricane-proof_** house.” She waited for a moment for further outburst and when there was none, continued.

“Remember what I showed you of the design? We spoke of the architectural beauty of it, the elegant, curving lines.  What we did not discuss was the purpose of those lines and how they will not provide resistance to high winds; how they will allow the winds to move around instead of against the walls.  How water from the storm surge will flow around and waves will as well.”  She gave Andréa’s hand one more gentle squeeze and then waited for the questions.

Fifteen minutes and many explanations, assurances and a promise that she would text as frequently as possible, she drew their conversation to a close.

“It’s late darlings, time for you to sleep.”

“How can we sleep mom?” Caroline took the lead while Cassidy, ever the worrier, finished with, “What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen in the next eight hours which is exactly how much sleep you are going to get tonight do you understand me?”

“But…”

“No; no buts. You are going to go to bed and you are going to sleep; tomorrow we will speak again, as long as technology allows, but for now do not worry.  I am fine and I will be fine; do you understand?  Now be good for your grandmother and go to bed.”

“Alright mom. I love you.”  Cassidy finally relented.

“Me too mom, I love you!”

“And I love you both so much you have no idea; I am so lucky to have two girls as beautiful and as smart as you; you are both so special and will do so many wonderful things in your lives.”  The last few words came out a bit more strident than usual but neither teen noticed as Miranda nearly lost it but she focused on the anchor Andréa provided which allowed her to push through in spite of the tears burning her eyelids.  Throat muscles working furiously she managed a steady, “Now, go to bed; we’ll talk tomorrow”, and ended the call with a tap to the glass.

Dropping the phone unceremoniously to the couch Miranda slumped back into the cushions as her left hand covered her eyes, the right still entwined with Andréa’s.  She willed the tears to remain at bay grasping at the new-found silence in the room as a lifeline.  Every muscle and sinew was now able to be devoted to containment, her focus on maintenance of the solitary battle so singular that it took her several seconds to notice that something was scratching at the gate of her emotional stronghold; a gentle motion of what was undoubtedly Andréa’s thumb as it moved rhythmically against the back of her hand. 

Miranda tilted her head slightly and opened her eyes to look at the woman sitting only a few feet away, gentle tears tracking from the soft brown eyes, down the gentle slope of her cheekbones and following the curve of her chin.  Andréa said nothing, just looked at her with such compassion and, she could see it right now, love, that it blew the final,  stubbornly resistant, bricks in Miranda’s carefully constructed fortress of denial into dust.

“Oh my god!”  Miranda rasped as she shot upright in her seat and turned her body towards her former assistant as a single tear dared to cross the barrier, “you must stop that this instant!”

Andy, caught like a moth in sticky webbing as it had endeavored in its movement towards the light, gasped out a strangled “Stop what Miranda?  You can’t tell me to stop my heart!”  And then, because she was so tired of hiding, pleaded for the impossible in a near whisper.  “Don’t ask me to, please!”

“And what about what you are asking of me?!  Do you think I am the only one asking the impossible here?!  It would be so easy, you, you are so young and…” She was about to say foolish but somehow she couldn’t commit to the lie, Andréa was not foolish; no she was beautiful and an idealist and thus very, very… “dangerous.”

Andy felt lost; lost in the swirling emotional connection she felt with Miranda and in the continuously changing jetties and currents that comprised the emotional space of a very complicated heart.  She didn’t want to believe it could be so damn difficult to accept love, but she surmised that with someone like Miranda who saw peril in love, it was possible.  She shook off the frustration and sadness and vowed to not give up; she knew this wasn’t going to be easy and to give in and slink off at the first salvos was not acceptable.

Andy pulled her chin up and willed away the waver in her voice.  “Why am I a danger Miranda?”

Miranda, realizing that their hands were still entwined, released her hold and stood abruptly, taking several steps away from the sofa.

“Miranda, please, I want to understand.”

But Andréa’s questions remained unanswered, the only response a slow pacing on the other side of the coffee table, in front of the nearly silent television.

Andy stood quietly and deduced that Miranda was not aware that she had moved from the couch because when the agitated woman turned abruptly to repeat her pattern she nearly bowled her over.  Andy watched with fascination as the eyes grew cooler and her posture more rigid, if indeed that was possible.

Miranda narrowed her eyes and Andy could swear that the temperature in the room dropped a good ten degrees. “I don’t understand why you insist on boring me with your questions.”

Andy spared a moment to marvel that Miranda had the most elegant way of telling someone to ‘fuck off’ that she had ever encountered.  The witty sarcasms, once she learned to separate her identity from them and not allow her self-confidence to be shaken, were actually a bit of a turn-on.  When it appeared that Miranda was getting ready to perform yet another of her strategic retreats Andy reached out and grabbed the wrist closest to her, spinning around the now outraged woman so their bodies were angled towards one another.

“Let. Me. Go.”  Miranda spat her demand at the focal point of the restraint, her left wrist.

“No.  Not until you answer me.”  Andy’s voice grew stronger even as it maintained its lower volume.

“Then you and I shall remain standing here in perpetuity as I have no intention of doing anything of the sort.”

Andy noted that Miranda had yet to look at her.

“Miranda.  Look at me.”

She practically growled; “I don’t have to do anything.” 

Andy felt the rumble as a shot of heat through her system and nearly missed when Miranda attempted to move away once again.  But Andy tightened her grip and clasped the right hand which had grabbed at her own in an attempt to break her grasp.  She pinned both arms to Miranda’s side with a strength that surprised both women and perhaps did a bit more if the shiver she detected that ran through the other woman was any indication.

“Miranda.”  Still the eyes avoided direct contact as Miranda had bowed her head and was looking off to the side.

Miranda couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman; how dare she handle her so, so…it wasn’t rough, no matter how much she’d like to accuse her of treating her as such; no Andréa’s grip was firm on her wrists but not bruising.  Once again she questioned why she felt it necessary to paint Andréa in the most unfavorable light when at her core she knew that she’d never hurt her.

_No! That is not true!_   She struggled now, trying to step back and away, flexing her arms in hopes of breaking the hold.  Andréa had the potential to destroy whatever hope she still held in her heart that she would be able to have someone who would truly be able to love her; _all_ of her.  Miranda continued to fight because Andréa **_was_** that someone for her and she was convinced that she was **_not_** that someone for Andréa.

Realizing she wasn’t going to free herself Miranda stopped her attempt and waited for her chance; careful to avoid looking at the woman who had moved so close she could feel the heat of her body.  She awaited the next inevitable round of questions but nearly jumped out of her skin at their delivery when a ghost-like, “Tell me Miranda”, was exhaled into her ear.

Goose bumps raced along every inch of her skin blanking her mind to everything around her but the sensation. 

“Why Miranda?”  Another gentle expulsion of breath, this time at the point where her jaw began just below her ear.

Miranda bit her lip but still refused to answer.

“I know you want to tell me.”  Andréa’s full lips grazed feather-like along the edge of her jawline; her mild shivers morphing into a full on tremble.

“Mmmm.” This mumbled against the side of her lips and a tiny, brief flickering of a warm and moist tongue.

“Please Miranda; please.”  Andy released Miranda’s wrists and cupped her face with both hands, gentle strokes of soft thumb pads at the corners of her mouth.

Miranda had no choice now but to look up and finally meet those eyes; those damnable eyes.  And at that moment she truly realized that hell on earth did indeed exist for to have heaven be so close and yet so unattainable; that was true torture.

“Please?”  The dark gaze caressed her from her eyes to her lips and it was there that they lingered until Andréa moved so closely into her space that she was unable to see anything but those eyes which were trying so hard to convince her of the sincerity of her plea.

“Don’t ask this of me Andréa.”  All harshness had fled from her tone, replaced by a weary sigh. “Please.  Don’t.”  It took every shred of Miranda’s formidable will to step back, breaking the tableau.  She didn’t wait for a response but instead opted for flight and moved as quickly as she could, without outright running, out of the room.

Andy sagged as she heard the soft closing of Miranda’s bedroom door followed by the click of the lock, the adrenalin as it bled out of her system leaving her deflated as she stood in the middle of the room.  Several minutes passed as, eyes shut, her body cooling from the heat that had built between them, she catalogued and committed every single sensation to memory.  Despite her frustration Andy felt alive and she never wanted to forget this moment; a holy slice out of the fabric of her personal timeline. 

Where some may have allowed despair to infiltrate and lead to capitulation Andy saw hope; hope in the continued struggle, hope in the slow erosion of Miranda’s resistance, even hope in their forced confinement. If Miranda truly did not feel anything for her or if a decision had already been made, Andy knew without a doubt that her former boss would have already slammed the door in her face.  She replayed Miranda’s words and found within that final plea before her flight both confirmation and affirmation; the nearly tortured, “Please” an unconscious entreaty for Andy to not give up.


	6. Chapter 6

Andy slept on the couch that night, the television set on mute acting as both companion and nightlight.  The storm outside was still lashing their shelter with intermittent waves of ever intensifying wind and water matching the tumultuous dreams that plagued her half-sleep.  The glowing numbers on the cable box indicated 4:13 as a bleary eyed Andy attempted yet again to return and hopefully maintain a sleep state but the questions nagged at her. 

_Why is Miranda pushing me away?_   _Why is she fighting this so hard?_  

She was vexed, she knew Miranda wanted her, perhaps even loved her. 

_Why not just allow it to be?_

What did the woman need?  _Perhaps she needs more than I’m able to give_ , or since Andy knew she’d give everything, perhaps it was more about what Miranda perceived as to what Andy was capable of giving. 

_Yeah, yeah, that could be it.  Or not._   She stood quickly and grunted in frustration as she was solving nothing and no closer to resolving the mystery that was Miranda.  4:39.

Shrugging her frustrations at the time she plopped back down.  _Sleep, I should go back to sleep._   Another of her long protracted stretches separated her vertebrae and released the air with tiny pops.

_Ah, wonderful!_

She smiled but then frowned when she realized she wasn’t one lick tired now. 4:41.

_But then, it’s not like I’ve got to be anywhere.  So.  Miranda._   The intelligent mind replayed the events of the past few days searching for the “Rosetta Stone” that would unlock the mystery.

But maybe she wasn’t meant to understand.  Maybe this was as close as she would get to the woman and once this all blew over, literally…  Andy rolled her eyes at herself, honestly what is the point of being witty when it’s only oneself in the earliest hours before dawn?  Anyway, maybe this was it and they’d never see one another again.

The black cloud that descended upon the arrival of that particular thought rivaled the oppressiveness of the heavy weather enveloping the house. 

_Oh yeah, weather.  We **are** in a hurricane after all._   Attention mindlessly hijacked by their circumstances she shifted focus to the television but found it was on a commercial break.  Surfing with the remote revealed more of the same and Andy pondered how every channel seemed to be on a similar schedule as all she could find was advertising.  But then that was comforting on its own; if all hell crashing in were imminent there’d be no breaks.

That meant her respite was indeed brief and the noodling as to “how do you solve a problem like Miranda” continued (complete with melody, an outtake from the “Sound of Music”). She snickered.

After about another half hour and without any brilliant flashes of insight Andy’s head grew too heavy to hold up and she drifted back into a sleep deeper than she’d achieved all night.

lXlXlXl

Miranda bolted abruptly upright into a sitting position, hands trembling and clothes from the night before clinging to her sweat-covered skin.  Her first thought was that the power had finally been lost but a subtle cool shifting of air as it poured from the duct in the floor next to her bed informed her otherwise.

Then she remembered.

She had not had the dream in many years but recognized it immediately, the windy precipice upon which she stood gaping at the earth ten stories below.  Long blonde hair escaped her favorite pink clips and whipped in the breeze, the chill of a mid-May early morning adding to the cold reality of her mother disappearing before her eyes in a deafening roar of collapsing concrete and steel.

Miranda was unhappy that her subconscious had chosen to isolate and highlight that particular memory but really, she wasn’t surprised; the fear of her own children experiencing the loss that she’d endured when she was only a few years younger than them a natural trigger.  She glanced at the clock, 4:30, and internally shrugged; of all of the challenges she had faced in her adult life, the past eighteen hours had easily eclipsed every emotional struggle that had come before so she really would have been more surprised if the memory hadn’t inserted itself into her dreamscape. 

Miranda yawned and gently brushed at the sleep residue in the corner of one eye feeling more exhausted than when she’d first removed herself from Andréa’s persistent “inquiries”.  She blushed suddenly at the remembrance of her response; every nerve ending tingling; shivers rushing from head to toe and…well…other inconvenient manifestations.  After that hasty retreat she’d sat sightlessly on the corner of the bed for nearly an hour, locked in a pitched battle between her need for safety and a need for true intimacy, before finally laying down.  

So, sleep that finally allowed for dreaming hadn’t come easily to her; she’d tossed the sheets restlessly as she tried to turn her still dry-eyed focus on anything other than the conversation with her girls and the emotional quagmire she found herself in with a woman, who, she was slowly realizing, had in her possession more depth than she ever could have imagined.  That Andréa had managed to create an intense welling of desire that was growing increasingly insistent and proving nearly impossible to forget and ignore was damn inconvenient as well.

She touched that space behind her ear and dragged her fingertips along her jawline, retracing the path that set her insides on fire just in the remembrance.   Shuddering, she gripped her index finger between her teeth hoping that the applied pressure would snap her out of it.  Unfortunately her creative mind was not to be derailed as the finger in question was now imagined to be sucked into a warm, moist mouth, a wicked tongue caressing its length.  

Groaning she released her finger and desperately grasped for distraction, flexing her hand and massaging her forehead.  Unlike the single digit which titillated, awareness of her hand brought to mind a wave of comfort and the steady grip that had leant her unfailing support as she struggled so terribly while enduring the call with Caro and Cass.  She could still feel the warmth upon her skin, the softness and the surprising strength.  Their hands fit together in a way she’d never experienced and she questioned yet again why she couldn’t just let go and see what could be.

_Would it really be so bad?_

But her insides tightened at the possibility.  There were no frames of reference for her to rely upon, only a picture of what her eight year old self teetering on the precipice of a newly formed space must have looked like to someone hovering in the air just beyond that wretchedly flawed Newham tower block apartment building.  Utter shock, confusion, disbelief and devastation would surely have been apparent on her pale face.  The ensuing months of sadness and pain wrapped into endless questioning as to why; why it had to be **_her_** mother who was so cruelly taken, leaving her so very alone with a grieving father and needy younger siblings.

Except for her daughters she’d been alone all of her life and even they could not touch those places within reserved only for another adult who would see her as her true self.  So yes, despite three husbands and several lovers of both genders sprinkled before and between, Miranda had always been alone. 

Her personal irony was that the feeling of isolation she hated so much when she was a child had twisted itself into a blanket of comfort.  To shed it meant that she would once again be vulnerable to the ground giving way; pitching her heart into a fatal free-fall.  That she’d convinced herself that it was fine, that _she_ was fine, had become an ingrained part of her personality, shaping her expectations and then her choices.  In the business world this mind frame served her quite well because she didn’t stop to question motives and emotions, she was able to see what was needed and make the hard choices to ensure success.

She flopped back onto her pillows with an uncharacteristic lack of grace and closed her eyes.  _This is exhausting,_ she noted with some irritation.  Miranda questioned the sudden trip into introspection even as “The Dragon” snorted at her for being obtuse.  She hadn’t embarked upon this little journey all on her own, no, the culprit was proximity; both Mother Nature and a beautiful younger woman who thought she was in love with her had conspired to threaten both her life and her heart. 

She turned on her side and hugged one of the feather pillows tightly to her chest; she felt small in the face of the awesome power of the nature around her and frightened not so much because she could die that day but because she could live.  If this shelter somehow managed to deliver on its promise of safety then her life as she knew it was irrevocably changed regardless of whether or not she could accept the agent; bringing with her all of the alluring promises of that change.  Physical, emotional and, a whisper of a deeply buried and nearly forgotten voice dared, spiritual; all she had to do was accept it.

_So, acceptance_ ; apparently that was the bottom line. 

Miranda nearly sneered into the pillow; she hated acceptance because it had always meant that somewhere she didn’t achieve what it was she truly wanted. 

And she did want; oh how she wanted Andréa. 

_So, maybe I just need to work on accepting acceptance._   Once again her inner voice gave an undignified snort both because it _sounded_ absolutely and ridiculously redundant and anyone, not that she gave a rat’s god damn about what anyone else thought, but anyone would think that a woman of her age would have already learned exactly how to accomplish it.

She spied the soft blue digital numbers of the alarm clock and gave the pillow a harder squeeze, allowing another frustrated groan to escape into the room as she’d been chewing on all this for nearly an hour without a clear decision of how to proceed.   She rolled onto her back, letting the pillow drop to her side and drew a hand through her hair.

_I am so tired of fighting; but how?  How do I do this?  Am I capable of doing this?  What if I do allow myself to try and she leaves me?_

It was this final thought that revealed the one true crack in her mantle; providing  the pathway for the welling of emotion which had for hours now been pushing against the confines of her control.  Like the force of gravity on concrete slabs catastrophically left unsupported there was no more adjournment; the bottom lip, always first in her line of physical defense, began to quiver and her eyes, usually so practiced in maintaining the icy, indifferent façade filled until finally they released their burden.  Miranda rolled again to her side and pulled the discarded pillow back into her body, curled around it in a tight ball and cried like she hadn’t done since her mother’s funeral.

lXlXlXl

Andy awoke with a start to the sound of something crashing against one of the glass patio doors.  Heart pounding a rapid staccato and head buzzing after being pulled so abruptly from her deep sleep she stumbled over and looked out.  The rain sheeting down the glass made it difficult to see but by the length and irregular shape it looked to be a large branch, or, she mused given the intensity of the wind, a very small tree, lying inert on the patio floor.

Noting they still had electricity she quickly flipped on the elaborate coffee machine allowing for a tiny moment of happiness at the sound of the beans grinding and moved back to the living room, turning up the volume on the television as she grabbed her laptop and refreshed the screen with the most recent update from the National Hurricane Center website. 

Andy frowned as she read the latest findings from the hurricane hunter plane; the pressure had dropped, the slight wobbling picked up the night before had lessened and the forward speed had only increased slightly to 12 mph.  The storm had also grown bigger with a center nearly 45 miles across and maximum sustained winds of 160 mph, making it a category five storm.  Unfortunately the trajectory had changed little and they were still pretty much in the center of the forecast path; at Layla’s current speed they should expect to begin feeling the strongest winds along with the attendant storm surge in approximately five and a half hours.  As it was she could tell that the weather had deteriorated significantly since her early morning bout with insomnia.

She headed back into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee then turned to lean against the countertop her gaze caught once again by the relentless stream of water against the doors and windows.  She marveled that with the stronger gusts the sheeting rain seemed to splatter in all directions and wondered at how fast the wind had to blow to create such an effect.  She remembered then seeing a gadget tucked into the corner with the weather radio and shortwave; upon closer inspection it was confirmed that it was a mini-weather station with readouts displayed digitally of the temperature, humidity (exterior and interior), barometric pressure and wind speed.

She waited for another one of the stronger gusts of wind and her eyes widened when it indicated 112mph.  _Wow!  And it’s so quiet in here, you can’t even tell!_   She remembered storms she’d experienced back in Ohio when she was a child, straight-line winds from thunderstorms had at times gusted to 80 mph and she recalled being freaked out because the entire house would creak, the sound of the natural detritus that normally lay about the neighborhood impacting the siding with pops as loud as gunshots and the rush of the wind itself.  All of it had been quite loud; and frightening.  She felt now like she was wrapped in a sound-proofed cocoon and hoped it would continue; unsure of how she’d react if the violence outside were to invade their shelter with the evidence of its fury.

She managed to tear her eyes away from the anemometer’s readout and consider the real elephant in her room.  Miranda.  She knew she needed to update her on the situation and communicate that she’d need to take what would probably be her last shower in for who knows how long, sooner rather than later.  

Andy rubbed her face with her hand thankful that there was no expectations for makeup thus none present to smear.  _But, sheesh, how?  How to face her?_   She’d been so forward with her, taking a chance and failing.  What was she supposed to do now, just pretend it never happened and act normally?

Then again, how exactly could she be expected to maintain her normal outward self when, in a few short hours, potential death was waiting?

With a nod and a shrug she decided that it didn’t really matter; she’d play it by ear, start by ignoring what had and hadn’t happened the night before and focus on preparing mentally for the coming trial. 

She just wished she didn’t feel so damned alone.

lXlXlXl

Miranda was pushed abruptly from the deep sleep she’d managed to cry herself into and lifted her head slightly, crooking it as she tried to ascertain what had awakened her.  From her limited vantage point she could see that her bedroom door was still closed and that the world beyond her window was a dark, muted gray; no doubt due more to the weather than time of day.  She took stock of her body, pushing her arms out from where they had remained clutching the pillow, pins and needles shooting across her nerve endings.  Straightening, she rolled onto her back and stretched, then pushed the hair back from her eyes noting that the skin on her cheeks felt slightly stiff; _ah yes,_ the tears.

But she couldn’t begrudge that they’d occurred, indeed she felt so much better for it which caused her to question why she’d resisted them for so long.  Rolling her eyes as she rolled her body into a sitting position she knew damn well why she’d resisted.  Habit; forestalling excessive displays of emotion was second nature and part and parcel to who she had created herself to be. But she couldn’t deny that she felt…it took her several seconds to identify it…lighter.  She hadn’t really solved or decided anything but she did feel slightly more hopeful than she had since this whole nightmare had begun.

Miranda allowed her mind and emotions to drift freely, and decided to have a go at acceptance even though how it would manifest was a mystery.   _How do I act?  What do I do differently?  It’s not like I’m about to change an entire lifetime of ingrained pattern and I don’t really want to._   No, that wouldn’t feel right to her and yet there had to be a way to slip in a little bit of whatever it was that she needed to, at the very least, ensure she didn’t work herself back into a state like she’d been the day before and in those hours she’d lain awake.

So she did what she did best, organizing the challenges and possible outcomes then the responses available to her, aligning them with each result. 

Identifying the challenges was easy; trapped on an island and in a house soon to be surrounded by water, to be battered by waves and unfathomable wind, alone except for her own personal forbidden fruit.  Although with the light of day the unattainability of Andréa had seemed to recede, if not enough to allow action, then at least enough to allow the concept of the possibility of her to exist without that blindingly savage impulse to squash and banish all thought of her as anything but her employee. No; former employee.

So, was that acceptance?  It was not really clear but Miranda thought that perhaps it could very well be.  She had just begun to list out the possible outcomes when a loud crash against her window stuttered her heart and derailed her meticulous mind.  She rose immediately and moved towards the thick glass pane, inspecting it for even the slightest evidence of damage.  Long minutes she spent touching with the pads of her fingers and examining every inch with her now bespectacled eyes until she was reassured that whatever it was that had struck so violently had not compromised the surface.  Breathing out a sigh of relief she started again at a loud rapping sound, mildly chastising her discombobulated state when she realized its source was only a knock upon her door.

Which caused her heart to triple time once again as there was only one other person in the house and she realized that she wasn’t nearly ready to speak to her, let alone share a common space.

The knocking was a bit louder now followed by, “Miranda?  Are you alright?” which definitely required a response so she cleared her throat and dredged up some of that vaunted English grit.  “Yes, yes.  Uhm…” her voice lost its strength for a moment but she straightened and focused on projecting.  “I’ll be out momentarily.”

She thought she’d heard a quiet “Okay” but at any rate the knocking ceased.  She glanced down at the rumpled clothes she’d slept in and stripped, intending to throw something else on but stopped when she passed by the full length mirror.  She looked like, what was the phrase for which her brother had such fondness?

“Hammered shit.” 

Alvin, upon moving to the states about five years after her own arrival, had thrust himself with gusto into the vernacular of his new home often with colorful and amusing results, not that she’d ever admit it to his face.

But this particular metaphor was completely accurate and not only did she look it but every muscle in her body seemed to be screaming at her in a unified concert.  Apparently hauling four hundred pounds of gasoline around was not something soon to be forgiven.  She turned longingly towards her shower but decided that first she needed information and coffee, and not in that order.  _Oh screw everything else_ , including assembly of her well-practiced façade; if Andréa couldn’t handle “The Dragon” without her scales better to know sooner rather than later.  Coffee, ibuprofen, information and a shower; now that she had her task list she felt more confident and dressed quickly in a Vivienne Westwood silkscreened tee shirt and Ralph Lauren yoga pants; with hair still tousled and without a stitch of makeup she opened the door and strode out of her room like it was the elevator at Runway.


	7. Chapter 7

Andy sat at the kitchen island fiddling with her phone.  Desperately needing a friendly voice she wanted to call her parents and was just about to dial when the bedroom door swung open to reveal a Miranda the likes of which she had never before seen.  She tried not to gape and turned her head quickly, trying to align the casually rumpled woman who glided, albeit a bit stiffly, towards the coffee with the always well put together editor. 

The thin tee-shirt, a scoop neck in deep purple with bright splashes of color clung tightly to a curvy, womanly form as did the soft cotton three-quarter length white pants that hugged every nuance of a backside that had spurred at least a hundred of her fantasies.   When Miranda turned around and leaned against the counter, taking her first sip of the piping hot coffee with eyes fluttering closed Andy nearly whimpered; as the action was pure sensuality.  Her eyes took the opportunity to travel down the sleek neck, over the partially exposed collar bones and… _Oh my god she’s trying to kill me!_ Andy choked on her coffee and began to cough; it was quite apparent that Miranda hadn’t bothered with a bra. 

Miranda’s eyes flashed open with the sudden sputtering; apparently “The Dragon” without her armor provided quite the image.  She bit back her disappointment with the obvious display of shock and then distaste, if the frown that settled on Andréa’s face once she finally managed to settle down was any indication, and snatched the bottle of pain killers off of the counter, popping two then chasing them with a gulp of her still fairly hot beverage. 

_Two items down, two to go._

They remained in silence for several more minutes each trying to find their footing until finally Andy found her voice.

“We’re going to have to shut the water off soon.” The Shiavone’s had instructed that when the full fury of the storm was a certain distance away that they were to shut off the water to the house  so as to avoid contaminating the plumbing when the connections were finally torn free.

“Yes."  Miranda couldn’t find it within herself to utter more than a single word as all of her resolve evaporated at Andréa’s continued discomfort.

“So, uhm. The storm.”  Andy managed to spit out the basics of the latest forecast, all the while taking care to avoid staring at the incredibly beautiful woman lest she sputter out something completely inappropriate and uncomfortable, especially given her boldness the night before.

Miranda took the opportunity at the end of Andréa’s report to make her exit with a curt, “Well then.  Fine.” as she turned on the heel of her bare foot, heading back into her private space, once again locking the door behind her.

Andy deflated immediately into self-castigation.   _Fuck!  Honestly Andy, could you be any more obvious?_

lXlXlXl

“Hey mom.”  Andy had retreated up to her room on the third floor and had just finished drying her hair after her shower when the need to hear her mother’s voice overwhelmed her fear that she’d reveal too much.

“Andy, sweetie!  We were going to call you once your father got back.” Richard had stepped out for a quick trip to the store.

“Oh, well…”  She tried to keep her voice steady but obviously failed.

“Honey, aside from the obvious, are you okay, did something else happen?” The dejected and slightly lost tone of her daughter’s voice was very evident.

“Ah, no.  I mean the house’s fine, we’re, I mean uhm, I’m fine.”

“Andrea Elizabeth Sachs don’t you dare try to lie to your mother.”

Andy pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth as she struggled to not cry; a traitorous sniffle giving her away.

“Honey, I know this whole situation is so scary but you have to believe you’ll be alright; I believe it, I know in my heart you’re going to be okay…”

“Oh mom…you don’t understand…it’s not just…” She sniffed loudly and blew a gust of air out of her mouth since her nose was completely stuffed. “God it’s not just the storm; that’s the least of my worries.”

Louise’s eyebrows rose and a suspicion she’d long held regarding her daughter and her feelings for her enigmatic boss came to the forefront.

“What’s that woman done now?  I swear Andy if that dragon has done one thing to hurt you she better hope that storm sweeps her ass out to sea because she’ll wish it by the time I’m done with her!”

“Moooom!  Oh god!”  Andy half snorted and nearly choked on the tears cracking her voice.  “No; no more than usual...” Andy paused for a moment and then added in a near mumble, “and don’t call her a dragon.”  Then, gathering her courage, she plunged forward, needing desperately to get another perspective even if it was her sometimes overprotective mother.

“I quit yesterday.” 

It was said softly enough but it didn’t mitigate the shock; Andy loved her job.  _No Louise, you know what, or more correctly **who** , Andy really loves…  _“Oh baby, what happened?”

So Louise listened, without interrupting, to the entire tale of what she intuited was a very edited accounting of their interactions the day before hearing both the words and what was left unsaid.

Once Andy had finished there was a long moment of silence.

“Mom?”  Andy was getting nervous, while she hadn’t come right out and said it, upon retelling the story it was pretty obvious there was really only one motivation for her actions that made any sense.  “Say something?”

Louise realized her silence was being misinterpreted as censure.  “Sweetie, I’ve known for quite a while now, probably since you returned from Paris last year that you’re in love with that woman.”

“How?  I didn’t even figure it out until, well…”  She trailed off, unsure of when she really knew, it was the admitting it that had only happened the day before.

“Baby, I know you, I’m your mother.  Yes, yes, lame answer but it’s the best I’ve got.  I just know you and somehow this woman has gotten into your heart.”

“Yeah well…” Andy blew out a resigned sigh.  “I think I need to figure out how to get her **_out_** of my heart because I don’t think she’s ever going to accept it.”

Louise pursed her lips; unaware that it was a well-known affectation of the famous editor in question, debating how to proceed.  She wanted her daughter to be happy but with someone like Miranda, she had her reservations.  It didn’t matter that it was a woman, Andy had never hidden from them that the gender of her romantic interests was immaterial; no, there were plenty of other worries; all of which could prove insurmountable; age, social standing, wealth and of course, the woman’s personality.  Still, that didn’t mean it would be impossible; just, difficult.

Louise firmed her voice.  “Andy, did your father and I raise a quitter?”

“Huh?”  Andy was poleaxed enough to not even care she sounded like a total idiot.

“You heard me.”

“You want me to **_unquit_** my job?”

Louise tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling, honestly how can someone so obviously intelligent… “No darling, **not** the _job_.”

When Andy didn’t offer anything further Louise prodded for more information so Andy, still rather shocked by the practical manner in which her mother was approaching this conversation, told her everything including her frustrations with Miranda’s hesitation, in spite of the fact her heart knew Miranda felt something for her; her failed attempt at declaring her feelings, the subsequent rejection and her confusion over their interaction only a half hour before.

Louise listened and could guess at least some of what may be holding Miranda back. “Andy, how much older is Miranda than you?”

“Uh I’m not really sure, she’s forty-eight or fifty I think.”

“And you are twenty-eight.”

“Mother, that doesn’t mean anything to me!”

Louise who was fifty-six years old, laughed.  “Ah, maybe not to you but I can guarantee that it means something to her!”

Andy hadn’t considered Miranda’s age in quite this way, always thinking, when she gave it any thought at all, about it in terms of her own perspective.  “Okay, but what?”

“I can’t answer for her but I know what it feels like to look in the mirror and realize that your best days are behind you.”

“But I don’t see her like that!”

“And that’s to your credit; but still it may very well be a major factor here; if that’s part of what she’s dealing with then you’re going to be dealing with it, issue for you or not.”

They talked for a few more minutes, Andy filling her in on the latest conditions, reassuring her mother that the house so far was living up to its reputation.

“Darling, once you get the strongest part of the storm, please shoot us a text every half hour and just let us know you’re alright.”

“I’m not sure about the every half hour part but I’ll try to remember every hour, is that alright?  We’re probably going to alternate keeping our phones on just to conserve the battery life.”

“Then let me have Miranda’s number dear.”

Andy hesitated; would that be something Miranda would be angry about?  But then she realized she didn’t care, this was her mother and a fucking hurricane was threatening her baby girl; Miranda would understand.

“Tell daddy I love him and I love you too.”

As with their last conversation the day before Louise had to force back the desire to keep her daughter on the line a little longer.  Brushing a tear from her eye she tried to inject every ounce of her strength into her voice.  “I love you too sweetheart; it’s going to be okay, all of it.  Believe it, right?”

Andy wiped away her own tears and allowed herself the comfort of her mother’s resolve.  “Right.  I believe mom.”

lXlXlXl

Miranda turned off the blow dryer and regarded her face in the mirror.  She was blessed with incredibly good genes on her mother’s side of the family and that, coupled with keeping her face shielded from the sun most of her life and the best skin cleansers and moisturizers money could buy meant that she was still relatively wrinkle and blemish free.  The skin was perhaps not as tight as it used to be and there were those tiny lines at the corner of her eyes but all in all not bad for a woman of her age.

_Her age._ She pursed her lips. _That’s just the kicker isn’t it?_   At her age a woman was no longer just beautiful, she was beautiful “for her age”.  She pushed away from the mirror in disgust; oh she was cognizant enough to understand that age was a mind fuck and that she was the one mucking her own self up with her intermittent episodic fixation with it.

Take the incident earlier in the kitchen for example, she knew she completely overreacted but the doubting just waltzed right in with its dance partner self-consciousness and before she could stop it her dragon-self took over.  _Again._   Honestly, who the hell would want to take her on when she could barely stand herself at times?

_This is pointless._   She dropped the towel that had been around her waist; when alone Miranda never bothered with covering her chest, she was proud of her breasts, not as firm perhaps as ten years ago but still defying gravity, so why cover them?  Laughing at her incongruity she got dressed in the same clothes as earlier, remembering her bra this time and vowed to at least try to be an easier human being to be around.  God knows the coming hours were going to be difficult enough without adding her own mid-life angst to the mix.

lXlXlXl

Andy was back on the couch, feet pulled up under her and body angled so she could keep an eye on the mayhem beyond the patio doors as well as the news coverage which was now ramping up.  Layla was getting closer and the warnings were all increasingly sharp edged words; “catastrophic”, “epic”, “devastating”, etc. etc. blah, blah, blah.  She was worrying the cuticle on her left thumb and chewing on her bottom lip; _with all this waiting on impending doom it’ll be a wonder if I have any thumb left_.  Andy guiltily shoved her hand between her leg and the couch and looked for a distraction.

Sensing movement behind her Andy turned to watch as Miranda, still wearing the same tee shirt but, _damn_ , now with a bra and… makeup, walked gracefully into the room and settled on the other end of the couch.  _Seriously, is she really wearing makeup?  Who wears makeup for a freaking hurricane?!_

Andy shook her head slightly and returned her focus to the television; it only took thirty seconds before she was once again abusing her thumb as they watched in silence news regarding the storm.  After several minutes Andy could no longer resist the coiling twitch that had been building up inside and popped up from her seat startling Miranda.

“I’m sorry Miranda, I didn’t mean to…” Her words trailed off at the glare she was receiving and shrugged.  “I don’t even know why we’re watching all of this anyway; we’re here, we can’t go anywhere and we can’t do anything about whatever it is that’s coming at us and, and…shit!”  She plopped down gracelessly and tugged at her hair then looked up with a quirky smile.

“Well crap.  I’ve been telling myself over and over that I need to just chill; the damn thing’s not even completely here yet and I’m on edge.”

Miranda let her annoyance with the sudden outburst go and addressed the underlying anxiety.  “I’ve always found that the interminable span of time before an event or trial is often the most awful in terms of maintaining ones equilibrium.”  _There, that was mild enough_ ; she congratulated herself on not going with her first instinct to offer a scathing remark and with the cordial delivery she’d managed.

Andy interpreted the Miranda-speak and chuckled.  “Yeah, waiting sucks.”  She pursed her lips and allowed the air to build up in her mouth, puffing her cheeks like a chipmunk until she exhaled noisily. 

Miranda dipped her head slightly and her eyes crinkled a bit at the corners, amused; “You’re such a cheeky thing aren’t you?”

Andy snorted, “And your Queen’s English has been popping out hither and yon these last few days.”

A loud laugh split the air as Miranda tipped her head back in true amusement.

Andy just stared at her; entranced.

“Oh don’t look so bloody surprised, I do laugh upon occasion you know.”

Feeling the blood rushing to her face Andy tried and failed to find an appropriate response; instead she tilted her head up slightly and looked at Miranda through her long eyelashes.  “You’re beautiful when you laugh you know.”

Miranda stiffened in pure reflex but forced her body to relax.  Intending on tossing back another witty rejoinder she was shocked when she let slip in a voice so quiet it was barely heard over the television, “and you’re beautiful just about all of the time.”  The two women shared a soft but intense moment when their eyes caught and held until Mirada shook it off.

“Yes, well, I am hungry and since we still have electric I think it would be good if we were to have a hot meal.”  She got up and headed for the kitchen, pulling several items from the refrigerator intent on preparing breakfast.

They sat at the bar and ate their omelets, wheat toast and, of all things, bacon, about which Andy had refrained from any comment, again, not wishing to push her luck.  Their conversation became somewhat stilted and then, since discussion of the weather was out, they descended into another long period of silence; the clinking of silverware to plate and the crunching of toast blending with the muted ripping of the wind outside.  The quiet settled them into a somewhat comfortable space and, lulled by the relaxed domesticity, they both jumped when a particularly strong wind gust sent another large object careening into the door frame.

Andy had managed to refrain from letting drop the expletive that hovered on the tip of her tongue but burst out a single bark of laughter when a loud “Shite!” was startled from Miranda’s mouth.   The humor quickly dissipated as the reason for the outburst rattled the windows with another strong blast of air and Andy’s unease returned tenfold.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sit this close to the doors very much longer, I know they’re supposed to be impact resistant and all but…”  Andy’s voice trailed off as she realized how stupid she was going to sound if she were to complete the thought.

Miranda tilted her head, she was curious as to what Andréa wanted to say so prompted her to continue with a quirk of her eyebrow.  “But…?”

“Well, it’s…it just flies in the face of the common sense I grew up with that tells me that when something hits glass that I’d better hide because it’ll probably break.” 

Miranda nodded, agreeing in a quiet tone.  “Yes, our past experience certainly does shape our perceptions.” 

Andy looked closely at Miranda’s relatively unguarded expression and understood that she wasn’t speaking only of double-paned PVB laminated glass.  They sat looking at one another for an unknown period of time before Andy forced her eyes to return to her food, intent on finishing the rest of her breakfast.

It didn’t take much longer although she had to force the last bits as her stomach was twisting uncomfortably.  She stood and picked up both of their plates then, in a fit of boldness, reached over with her free hand giving Miranda’s hand that was resting on the counter a gentle squeeze.  “Thank you Miranda.”

Miranda wasn’t entirely certain what she was being thanked for but nodded. 

They turned then to the final preparations, dishes were cleaned, the water intake valve and waste lines were sealed and additional ice from the hotel-quality ice maker in the pantry was added to the refrigerator, making it into an oversized cooler.  Items they would want for their lunch and dinner that night were placed in a specially designed drawer that allowed access without releasing the cold air from the main refrigerator compartment (Andy’s sister had one too but they called it the “Munchkin” drawer as it had been designed so hungry little ones wouldn’t refrigerate the entire house while deliberating on juice type). 

“Where did they say the extra batteries were?”  Andy raised her voice as her head was in the pantry and she was frowning; she thought she’d seen them but couldn’t find them anywhere.

“Miranda?!  Hey…”  Turning abruptly she suddenly found her movement restricted as she became entangled with a very warm and soft body.  Completely off balance she pitched forward, driving Miranda’s back into the wall with a quiet “Oof”, arms surrounding her as if in a lover’s hug and their bodies pressed together tightly from breasts to thighs. 

Andy’s eyes widened and she reluctantly brought her head up, which somehow was resting on Miranda’s shoulder, dark eyes betraying her trepidation and arousal.

Unlike their earlier bouts of eye contact this was by far the most intimate; neither woman looked away nor was either making a move to disentangle from the other.

Miranda took several deep breaths as the oxygen level in the room seemed to drop precipitously and in proportion to the length and breadth of contact she was now sharing with one Andréa Sachs; hyper-aware of every millimeter of womanly curve so unexpectedly pressed against her.  She shifted slightly and nearly bit her tongue to prevent escape of the moan rising from within, noticing the delicious pressure of Andréa’s thigh which had ended up wedged tightly between her legs. 

Andy swallowed with difficulty, every ounce of moisture having fled her mouth when she realized exactly how intimately entwined their bodies had become.  They were so close, lips only inches away leaving very few options as to how they would proceed.  Andy knew she should pull back; she was swimming in dangerous waters, but couldn’t help that Miranda smelled so fucking good, inhaling deeply the familiar scent of shampoo, soap and whatever that undefinable something was that would allow her to identify Miranda even while blindfolded. 

_Goddess give me strength!_  

All Andy wanted to do was bury her face into the sloping neck and lap at every inch of exposed flesh available.  Her eyes broke contact and traced down the sloping neck ending where the “V” neck of the purple tee shirt was stretched revealing a pale swell and the hint of a silky lavender bra right above where their bodies were pressed together.  Near total derailment of all higher thinking occurred as she imagined the softness concealed and constrained beyond the barrier. 

Andy pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, bit down then raised her head looking up, watching as blue eyes widened in apparent telepathy.   Not breaking eye contact Andy forced one arm and then the other to unwrap and hands to release their impromptu embrace.  Not quite willing to relinquish the delightful contact Andy slowly brought each hand up to press flat against the wall one on either side of Miranda’s head, with the intention of eventually gaining some leverage to push her tingling, twitching body away from temptation.  But Andy had not accounted for one minor detail; the proximity of her thigh to the undeniable heat seeping through the thin cotton of Miranda’s yoga pants, torching the last of Andy’s control.

“Fuck Miranda; god you feel…” Irises subsumed by the black of dilated pupils she continued the eye contact while licking her lips and unconsciously pressing in closer.

At the breathlessly uttered words, the added pressure and the naked lust directed solely at her Miranda tossed all of her reservations into the bin and slammed the lid on it.  Closing the final inch between them she gripped and squeezed the slender hips where her hands had so unceremoniously landed.  Instinct kicked back a sudden panicked thought and she pressed her lips to the full pouty ones of this newly revealed seductress so potent in her allure that if Miranda hadn’t known better she would think herself either drugged or bewitched.  

The moan that arose from Andy when Miranda's lips touched her own fueled both women and their mouths opened, tongues searching and caressing in quick, desperate strokes.

After a few moments the part of Andy’s brain that controlled conscious action tapped her on the back of her hand in reminder that it could be utilized in a much more productive manner.  Grinning internally and delighting in the softness and heat, her lips continued their focus on tracing and memorizing every beautiful curve and dip of the usually so acerbic mouth while her right hand began to blaze a trail through the feather-light hair down to the nape of Miranda’s neck.  A rhythm of sorts began then, hands and lips exploring by feel and taste, need being fed by pure sensation.   

Miranda, for all her reluctance to accept the possibility of this particular moment; couldn’t get enough of the unbelievable lushness that was Andréa’s lips and she nipped, pulled, danced and worshiped; alternating taking control and abdicating.  Minutes passed and teeth nipped and mouths nibbled as hands grew slightly bolder, roaming in merry abandon over exposed skin, both sets of hands now delighting in curves that had been mapped in countless individual fantasies. 

Miranda shuddered as Andréa returned to that spot which seemed to so fascinate her the night before, the hollow space just below and behind her ear which, when caressed with that dangerous tongue, sent a flood of sensation to that place still receiving the most delightful of frictions from Andréa’s thigh.

A long, sensual moan escaped Miranda’s mouth when Andy worked _the_ spot, **_her_** spot, as a low, humming groan replaced a possessive inner growl that nearly escaped.  That elegant curving of neck meeting the curl of that always impeccable hair had taunted her for months and she was elated that she was finally able to map it with her tongue.  Another moan and Andy experienced a jolt of unadulterated pleasure pulsing upwards from her very wet and embarrassingly ready center.

Andy’s brain was suffering a delay but when the near growl finally registered she knew it was time to stop, knowing as surely as she knew the sky above was as blue as Miranda’s eyes that to go farther would only lead to embarrassment and a probable increase in hostilities.  This was a good first step and if she survived the aftermath then perhaps she’d have grounds for hope.

Miranda was experiencing a similar struggle, her sudden openness to the raw physicality between them quite disconcerting.  She needed to gain control and think things through; obviously she was highly aroused by Andréa.  _No, really?_ Her inner voice chided as she tugged an earlobe between her teeth before sucking it fully into her mouth, reveling in the obvious shiver it produced as a hand trailed goose bumps down her spine and a tongue flattened against her neck in successively longer strokes rattling a cage that Miranda had before this time not known existed.  Fear of the precipice she found herself upon compelled her to draw away and it took every ounce of her dragon will to school the familiar desire to flay or flee; closing her eyes in a bid to focus.

Andy watched as Miranda pulled back and then retreated, knowing she had precious seconds before the shuttered eyes would open and proclaim their judgment.  She clenched her thighs in a bid to contain her neediness while simultaneously attempting to erect a hasty barrier to protect her heart from the often unpredictable woman’s probable retribution. 

Miranda’s eyes opened to features gone slightly stiff, dark brown eyes guarded, watching her like a mongoose watches a cobra and sorrowed at the necessity; shamed that she was responsible given her past actions.  As she shifted the signs of her arousal became more evident and, no longer clouded by the haze of lust which had so controlled her only moments before, the discomfiture sent a tinge of red to her cheeks.  Once again she had to fight her first instinct but she had made a decision and wielding her formidable will like a broadsword against her weaker self, chose to honor it by remaining in place and open. 

Andy stiffened and closed her eyes as an elegant hand rose, awaiting a stinging slap only to open them in wide-eyed wonder as she received instead a soft caress.

Miranda cupped the fresh, smooth and wrinkle-free skin delighting in the beauty of it instead of using it as a self-flagellating reminder of her own not so youthful visage.  Rubbing a thumb over the kiss-swollen lips she allowed a small smile to break across her features that turned slightly wicked as she squeezed her thighs together briefly before sliding to the left a few inches allowing the artificially cooled air to temper the nearly overwhelming temptation.

She outright laughed at the groan she drew out of the obviously out of sorts woman and squeezed her other hand that was still in possession of a curving hip before withdrawing completely.  Not ready to move beyond this first step she knew she needed every inch of space possible even as her long-slumbering hormones clamored for her to push Andréa over to the counter and do any number of delightfully unspeakable things to her.

Andy nearly cried with the cessation of contact even as she understood the necessity of it; if this “thing” between them was ever going to proceed beyond a farewell fuck between former business associates caught within scary circumstances they needed to build a few emotional bridges.  They’d not even had one real conversation not based upon the employer/employee dynamic or unrelated to their current circumstance.   To this point it had been all Andy expressing her desire with Miranda acting as a Queen, forcing her loyal subject to convince her that she was a worthwhile pursuit.  _Definitely not acceptable_.

_But…_

Andy allowed a small grin and couldn’t help when it widened into a full, blinding smile that stole the breath from the other woman if the loud gasp was any indication.

_What a hell of a start_.


	8. Chapter 8

A sharp snapping sound preceded the termination of the natural hum of artificially created electricity, taking with it the lights and Miranda’s ability to see that amazing smile. 

“Goddamn.”  Andy shivered in the considerably dimmed hallway in which they stood as fear of the implication of the power loss bloomed.  Instinctually she moved forward and closed the gap between herself and Miranda although this time; instead of a passionate embrace she sought reassurance through a firmly gripped hand.

Miranda allowed a steadying moment for them both until she began to move away although her hold did not lessen as she tugged Andréa along behind her.

“I never did hear what it was you were caterwauling about a few minutes ago.”  Miranda attempted for humor but even she was too tense to really make it believable.

Andy ignored the stiff delivery and managed a one word response, too busy trying to regulate her breathing as her body seemed intent upon drawing every last bit of oxygen from the room in rapid fashion.

Miranda noticed that something was amiss and stopped, turning to face the other woman.  “Andréa, you must try to calm yourself; hyperventilating will do you no good.”

Andy knew that as surely as her own name but the gap between her intellectual side and that primal corner which housed her fight or flight self might well have been as wide as the Apalachicola Bay separating them from the mainland.  They arrived in the kitchen and Andy reluctantly released Miranda’s hand as she reached shakily for a brown paper bag lying folded on the counter. 

Miranda watched with concern as Andréa swiftly unfolded it with well-practiced ease and brought it to her mouth and nose, attempting to slow the pace of her breathing as she drew recycled air into her over-oxygenated lungs.  Wanting to help in some way Miranda stepped closer and began to rub small circles in the middle of a trembling back and was relieved to feel, after the initial tensing when her hand first connected, a calming of the body beneath her fingers.

Andy withdrew the bag and looked back over her shoulder, grateful for Miranda’s reassuring presence.

“Better now?”

Andy smiled a bit sheepishly.  “Yeah, sorry, I’ve been like this since, well, since…”  She grimaced in frustration and allowed what she was about to say to drift away as her eyes focused on the world beyond the patio doors; eager for a change of subject.  It didn’t feel right at that moment to tell her about Jess even though it would probably put Andy’s behavior into clearer perspective; it had been over ten years but the emotional ripples still at times resonated rather loudly.  “Uhm.”  Further need at prevarication became unnecessary as Andy noted that the wind had picked up considerably and she could see various objects moving through the air and landing on the patio, some of which were…

“Miranda!?  Are those fish?!”

Miranda had been focusing on Andréa’s unfinished sentence, wondering at both what she was about to say as well as why she appeared so hesitant to share it and reluctantly turned her attention to the outside world.  Her eyes rounded slightly at the sight.  “I don’t understand how it could be but…”  She strained to see from her vantage point but it was fruitless.

Despite the unease both women experienced while near the glass curiosity was stronger and as if by an unspoken command, they both moved as close as they could to the now gently pulsating doors.

Miranda, who had traveled many places across the world and seen many things, found that she had no context for the scene developing outside of their shelter.  Yes, there were fish and tar-paper and shingles and many other items that seemed to be circling in the wind, items only recognizable when they impacted with the side of the house coming to rest merely a few feet away.

Dawning comprehension settled upon the Midwesterner in Andy and she shrieked, “Holy shit Miranda it’s a freakin’ tornado!”

Miranda’s hand had been laid upon the glass and she noted how it almost seemed to flutter with the swirling wind.  “But…?”  She meant to ask _how was it possible?_

Her words died away as she watched, macabrely mesmerized, as the dark gray swirling mass of cloud and water moved past her field of vision.  Part of her was terrified, or knew it should be terrified because this made no sense; it shouldn’t be possible to watch an event like this so up close and personal.  And yet here they were, ensconced in a metal, concrete and fiberglass construct that barely transmitted evidence of the outer chaos.  Her hand remained glued to the door, marveling as the glass continued its movement, a steady in and out as if it were breathing; perhaps panic, she mused, would sneak up later when she’d had time to process.

Andy turned abruptly away from the window and in her haste practically tripped over to the weather station, certain that it was on a battery back-up; she wasn’t disappointed. 

“One-hundred and fourteen miles an hour!” She grabbed her camera, having stashed it in the alcove earlier, and slipped it into video mode as her voice squeaked and her eyes grew large with incredulity.  Splitting her attention between keeping the camera aimed in the right direction  and the wind speed she watched as the anemometer’s digital display continued to hold until the readout dropped down to a steady one hundred and one.  She then hurried into the living room and grabbed her laptop, disconnecting it from the now useless power cord while crossing her fingers that they still maintained their Wi-Fi connection; when the radar came up she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Miranda!  Hey…”

Miranda managed to tear her physical self from the door and joined Andréa; although her mind was clearly still processing, and she offered with distraction.  “I seem to recall you using those exact same words not too long ago…”  Miranda’s eyes widened slightly that she’d actually spoken the words out loud but she covered her surprise with what she hoped was one of mild amusement.

Andy glanced away from the screen and caught the playful smirk, grateful at Miranda’s attempt to break the tension even as her face shaded to a pale pink.  “Uhm.”

Andréa’s immediate coloring and shy smile caused Miranda’s chagrin at her carelessness to be replaced with delight and her smirk graduated into a closed-mouthed smile.  “Yes, you were saying?”

“Uh, yeah, that **_was_** a tornado, or really more probably a waterspout.  The radar is indicating rotation in some of the bands…” She turned the laptop so Miranda could see. “…that’s the red outlined areas and those hollow red rotating circles; we are here.”  She pointed to their location on the back side of one of the warning areas. 

Giddiness overtook Andy’s fear and her voice crept up an octave as her words grew closer together and more rapid fire.  “Wow!  I mean, I never thought, growing up in southwest Ohio we always had bad storms and tornados were an annual occurrence but I never saw one and now…” Her eyes widened and she took a breath and slowed her speech.  “And we were **_in_** one!”

Miranda watched in fascination as yet another facet of the beautiful woman bubbled to the surface; before she had a chance to stave the impulse, her hand reached out and tentative fingers brushed a line from the crinkle at the corner of the eyes, along the cheekbone and down to the full lips and then jawline. 

Andy shivered and cleared her suddenly too dry throat then husked quietly.  “What’s that for?”

“You are so very lovely and your enthusiasm makes you even more so.”  She let her hand drop away and shook her head softly.  “I just needed to…”  Miranda wasn’t sure what she’d needed.

Andy saw as the sharp focus lessened, a sign that Miranda was working something out.  Not wanting to wait for any conclusions to be drawn she reached out and gently grasped the hand that had so tenderly touched her, twining their fingers together before bringing the hand to her lips where she placed a light kiss upon the knuckles. 

Miranda closed her eyes at the touch of soft lips to her hand and let out a sigh of contentment.  _This is what it feels like to be in love._   She was surprised that the thought didn’t panic her nearly as badly as it had a scant twenty-four earlier but then that was before she had something real to be terrified of.  The vibration of the window beneath her outstretched hand had vividly unfolded another layer of their perilous situation; if it wasn’t for the woman in front of her she was loathe to think of the state she’d be in at this moment.  Still a shudder passed through her and she brought Andréa’s hand down so it rested on her thigh, contemplating it for a few seconds before finally dragging to light some of what had to this point gone unspoken.

“I’m afraid.”  She felt a responding squeezing of her hand and then a thumb began to rub a circular pattern, soothing her and she continued quietly.  “This storm, this house surviving, my children growing up without their mother and…” She looked up and met dark eyes which were open and oh so compassionate.  “And you.”  She chuckled darkly and shook her head.  “I’m not really certain which terrifies me more.” 

Andy considered for a moment, remembering the question of the night before, then, throat suddenly very dry, managed to gently form the words, very cognizant of the reaction that could result. “Are you frightened of me because you feel I’m going to hurt you?”

Miranda willed her body to remain still; she was passing the point of no return and very tired of holding herself back.  “Physically?  Never.  But then I believe you already knew that.”  She tilted her head up from where she was contemplating the weave of the couch and met Andréa’s eyes.  “But…”

Andy watched Miranda struggle to find the words discovering that even though she now understood a good deal more of what held Miranda back she was torn between a desire to hear what the woman would actually say and a nearly indescribable need to release her from any obligation that would make her so uncomfortable.

“Miranda…”

Miranda visibly inhaled and grasped her hands together in her lap, responding in an even tone. “Andréa?”

“If you don’t want to tell me, really, you don’t have to.  I feel like I’m forcing you to divulge information you’d rather not and I never want to do that.  That’s not who I am.”

Miranda felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes, the offer of a reprieve settling something deep within.  She sat for several minutes aware that the sounds outside were growing a bit louder, or maybe now that the myriad of appliances and the central air were no longer running she was just better able to hear it.  She ignored it for the time being and decided to focus back on finding the right words.  _But what **are** the right words?  What do I really want to say?  What do I really want?_

That was the crux; Miranda really wanted Andréa even as she was afraid of wanting her. 

“You.” 

It was barely a whisper and like a few moments before, she hadn’t realized that she’d spoken; until at least she noted the questioning look she was being given.  But it was the truth; so she gathered her courage and decided to not hide behind prevarication.  “You; I want you and that thought unsettles me greatly for a number of reasons.”

Andy, despite her younger age and the fact that she had been so far the pursuer, understood that fear.  But she also knew that to not feel was not an alternative for her so had moved forward in spite of it; just like Miranda was attempting now.  That realization was like a light bulb and illuminated the path for how best to have this conversation; it was time to talk about Jess and help Miranda see that she truly did understand what she was risking.

But before she could proceed the windows once again began to vibrate and the gods-be-cursed storm intruded upon their shared space with another object slamming into the side of the house.  They held each other’s eyes a moment longer until Andy stood and offered a hand to Miranda.

“Come on; we’ve got to do a couple more things before this all gets any worse.”  She brushed the bangs out of her eyes with her free hand, then moved that same hand to the back of her neck lifting the hair off of her neck wrinkling her nose at its sweaty dampness.  Bending slightly, Andy plucked her cell phone off of the coffee table, noting that she still had a few bars indicating service and then the time, turning it so Miranda could see; it was nearly eleven.  “One of which is call my folks and I know you want to call your girls, we can’t take for granted that we’ll actually be able to later.”

As Miranda stood she tightened her grip on Andréa’s hand and drew her in close, placing a chaste kiss upon the soft lips as she cupped her cheek, a motion that she was realizing could become a habit.  “Yes, and yes.”  Rubbing a thumb over the glistening skin she felt compelled to brush their lips together again hoping that Andréa understood at least some of what she wasn’t quite ready to put to voice.

Andy tilted her head and could see in the intensity of Miranda’s stare that she wasn’t going to abandon the conversation and hoped by the determined but sensual manner in which Miranda moved her lips that her intentions were not to ignore whatever it was that existed between them.

They parted and Miranda tugged at the silk of her tee shirt.  “I need to change as well.”  She noted the air that had grown slightly stale and considerably more warm and humid in the mere forty-five minutes or so since the power had abandoned them and cringed.  “This material simply won’t do.”

Andy looked at her slightly bemused.  “I don’t think I’ve seen one item that you’ve worn as yet that would be comfortable; do you have anything in all those suitcases?”

Miranda considered and shrugged.  “I’m certain I have something…”

lXlXlXl

It was an hour later and Miranda stood in front of two opened suitcases on her bed glaring; her sullen mind’s eye visualizing the comfortable cotton tanks she would favor when no one but her daughters were around to bear witness.  _Why couldn’t I have packed at least one of them?_   But she shook her head knowing that her professional image was everything, especially on a business shoot where free time without her ever-present staff had not been scheduled.

Andy stood in the kitchen, able to hear a low mumbling emanating from the open door to Miranda’s bedroom and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she sported an amused grin. Clad in a purple cotton sports bra with a lightweight white tank over it and a pair of dark purple running shorts she was moderately comfortable, certainly better than the long-sleeved blouse she had earlier sported to stave off the chill of the artificially cooled air.

Hearing soft footfalls she turned and saw that Miranda had returned sporting the same three-quarter length yoga pants and silk tee, looking equal parts disgruntled and uncomfortable.

Miranda noted the scrutiny and let out an un-amused exhalation of air.  “Certainly one would think that I would have been better prepared to be held captive by a freakishly unpredictable storm cut off from the mainland…” She paused dramatically while waving her hand, then added with disdain. “…in an enclosed space with not one wit of air circulation, no less.”

Andy’s bark of laughter rang loudly and Miranda shot her an evil look until she noted that Andy was reaching across the counter to grab at something.  What that something was she couldn’t begin to tell as her eyes were glued to the endless expanse of tanned skin that stretched up from tip-toed feet, toned calves, thighs and, as the shorts pulled upwards by her body’s extension, the beginning of an equally toned backside.

Miranda’s mouth watered at the sight and she had to fight a lustful compulsion to take just three steps and run her hands up the path her eyes had just blazed…

“Miranda?”  Andy couldn’t avoid the high-pitched squeak that escaped as she noted the location of Miranda’s eyes. She had slid back down from the counter and turned swiftly, catching the woman in a very un-sophisticated action.  Capitulating to the inevitable pinking of her cheeks she successfully fought the evil smirk that was clamoring to be set free and instead offered a small pile of clothes.

Miranda’s face heated and her eyes had difficulty focusing on the woman standing in front of her with something in her hand extended towards her.  She had never been caught out in quite so blatant of an ogling and cursed the inconvenience of Andréa’s timing as well as her own.  Before she could devolve into a thorough self-reprimand she was once again interrupted.

“I had a feeling you probably didn’t have much in the way of beach casual so, here.”

Miranda mumbled something that sounded like a “thank you”, snatched up the clothes and turned on her heel, once again disappearing into her bedroom, this time with a near slamming of the door.

lXlXlXl

Miranda muttered darkly as she shed the now sweat-soaked material of her outfit.  She cursed the weather, the uncomfortable heat which had been building steadily for nearly two hours **_and_** her hormones which seemed to have reverted back thirty years.  The ridiculousness of the situation was both exacerbated and tempered by the deteriorating conditions outside and the contrariness of it made her feel like she was on an emotional yo-yo.  One minute she was ogling Andréa as if she were a fifteen year old boy, another she was mentally pacing the walls of their glorified fishbowl, terrified of her circumstances and then, just like another tug on the string of that child’s toy, fighting the urge to throw things in a rage over how her daughters were suffering because of their fear and worry for her.

After removing what little makeup she had put on earlier as even that was making her hot, she pulled the lightweight olive green shorts over pale thighs toned from years of tai-chi and light resistance training.  Regarding the black tank top she considered how uncomfortable even the thin silk of her bra was against her skin, debating upon whether or not to remove it; after a few longer moments of contemplation she opted to leave it on, not yet willing to be quite so exposed.

Once dressed she was gratified to note that her comfort had improved at least nominally and considering the circumstances took it as a victory.             

Returning to the main area she went back over to where Andréa was studying the laptop screen; frowning.  “What is it?”

Andy tilted her head in Miranda’s direction but didn’t look at her, pissed at the uncooperative nature of the storm.  “Damn thing’s all but stalled for the last couple of hours, that’s why it’s not really gotten that much worse, well, except of course for the occasional tornado that is.”  She rolled her eyes and then pulled her lip between her teeth studying further. “The worst of the winds are now about an hour or so away, it really depends because they think she’ll speed back up soon so…”

“Well, where are we at right now?”  She attempted to keep her voice even.

“I looked at the anemometer before I came in here a couple of minutes ago and sustained were around one hundred and twenty miles per hour; that’s a high ‘cat’ three by the way.”

Miranda couldn’t stop her surprise and she gasped, “Andrea, you said we’ve not had the worst of the winds as yet; just how much worse is this going to get?”

Andy inhaled deeply and didn’t raise her eyes from the screen, hadn’t Miranda been listening the last time they’d had this conversation?  Although, she considered, remembering the high emotional level of stress that had been exhibited, she really wasn’t surprised. “Well, this newest forecast will depend a lot on the speed of the forward motion.”

“Andrea, you know how I despise when people choose not to be precise.”  The dragon edge crept back into her voice.

Andy pursed her lips.  “Fine, but if you’d have listened to me earlier this wouldn’t be coming as such a surprise!  The worst for us will probably be somewhere around one hundred and sixty or so.”  She picked at the cuticle on her thumb and mumbled, scarcely believing it herself.  “That’s a low ‘cat’ five.”

Miranda turned her head and stared towards the window.  _Bloody fucking hell._

“You know, I was listening earlier, but I don’t think I really understood.  You said that that tornado was what, one hundred and twelve, fourteen?”

Andy nodded, still looking at her computer screen.

Miranda turned her head, staring at the doors and the way they continued their eerie respiration, murmuring absently, “My hand, I felt how it was moving with my hand and it was only a fraction of what it’s going to be like, how is this house going to withstand hours of constant pressure exerted upon it?”

When Miranda failed to continue Andy finally looked up.  “I know it’s looking…” but the words died on her tongue when she took in Miranda dressed in her tank and very short shorts.  “Ah…huh.”

Miranda was snapped out of her reverie by the sputtering woman and what she saw caused her to swallow hard the feeling of disappointment. Fists clenched she bit out in one of her iciest tones, “Monosyllabic speech really doesn’t suit you and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t stare.  I know it’s not how you’re used to seeing me but really, do try to at least hide your dismay.”

_Huh?_   Didn’t the woman know how absolutely gorgeous she was?  Miranda had once again turned her back and was staring out the window.  _Oh no, she doesn’t get to retreat again._  

“Miranda, I don’t know what you think you saw but I don’t really think you’re getting it.”  Andy stopped for a minute to gather her thoughts, this was all still so new and she feared she’d somehow say the wrong thing, but she must have taken a second too long because once again the quiet voice cut the humid air.

“I do believe I’ve already remarked once in the past five minutes about your delivery of bad news; just out with it already whatever it is.”

Andy actually laughed and the unconscious reaction took away the remaining nervousness for she said without thought, “Oh Miranda, you don’t have any idea just how beautiful you are, do you?”

Miranda turned and stared at her; surprise, anger and another emotion that Andy couldn’t identify, all battling for dominance. Before another word could be uttered in either offense or defense Andy moved closer and reached for Miranda’s hand, pulling it up and twining their fingers together. 

“This isn’t about the trappings of you Miranda, it’s about you.”

“You.” Andy tugged the quiescent woman closer and softened her voice.

“Are.”  Wrapped her free arm around the well curved waist pulling her closer still.

“Amazing.”  She watched closely for any sign of resistance and after the loaded pause Andy closed the distance, “Powerful.”  Then, placing a slow kiss upon the still frowning lips she nearly purred, “Sexy.” 

Another moment brought another kiss and a breathless confirmation, “So yes; **_beautiful_**.”

Andy leaned back then and allowed her face to be completely open; unwavering in keeping eye contact, willing Miranda to see that she was speaking the truth; her truth.

Miranda was having a difficult time putting the tumult she was experiencing into a place that fit.  She’d had lovers and husbands alike who had called her beautiful but never had one done so with such intent; certainly never when she hadn’t any makeup on, in such casual dress with her usually perfect hair a limp and slightly frizzed shadow of itself.

The window nearest to them began to pulsate as the doors had done earlier and the howling winds swirling around the beach house intruded more prominently drawing both women to turn their heads towards the rain-blurred glass.

Miranda felt her adrenalin increase while she amended; _and never when my life was in danger_.  She turned back to observe that the dark eyes that only seconds before were so open and warm were now windows of worry, a clenched jaw tightening all of Andréa’s features.

Miranda brought her own arms around to circle the slender waist and joined them in a hug intended to comfort them both.  Resting her chin on a strong shoulder she turned her head so her nose nuzzled behind an ear adorned with a small, silver hooped earring, pushing dark strands of hair away until her lips were able to find skin.  The shiver that was released reassured her and strengthening her hold she remained in that spot, oddly content.

Once the hug had run its course Miranda pulled back enough to allow a hint of cooler air to pass between their bodies, offering her hand to Andy who accepted and followed as she pulled them both towards the couch. 

Andy had been very reluctant to part from the surprisingly offered embrace but was rewarded when Miranda sat first, tucking her body into a corner of the couch and making space in front of her, then drew her closer so she was snuggled back to front.  Arms circled her waist and Andy melted into the body behind her, turning just enough so her head rested on Miranda’s collarbone, forehead tucked against her neck sighing in the feeling of safety offered.

“Better now?”  Miranda certainly felt so, even if nothing about their circumstance had changed and their combined body heat would quickly become too much.  This at least, made it bearable and she was relieved that she was able to unbend enough to offer both herself and Andréa the comfort.


	9. Chapter 9

The sounds of the storm continued to intensify, although still somewhat muffled, and both women were lulled into a sleepy lassitude. 

Miranda finally shifted, having grown increasingly uncomfortable, the stickiness of skin on skin finally becoming too much to bear. 

“Andrea.”  She kissed the top of the dark head and ran her hands up sweat-dampened arms before lightly grasping at strong shoulders, pushing gently.

“Huh?”  Andy was roused from a partial dream-state.

“Darling, you need to move now, I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Andy pushed forward, separating their bodies before twisting around, planting her feet on the ground.  “Ugh, my back is soaked.” She looked at Miranda, noting the heightened color and a nearly feverish gaze.  “I can use some water; I’ll get us both some.”

While Andréa headed towards the kitchen Miranda stood and stretched, wincing as her muscles, still very sore from the prior day’s activities, sent ripples of discomfort through her system.  She reached for Andréa’s phone, sending a text to both her daughters and the Sachs’ just as Andréa returned with two glasses of iced Pellegrino.

“Oh thank god we remembered to fill up the ice chests.”  She drank deeply, half the glass gone in seconds, when she jumped, emitting a slight squeak, as a cold something contacted with her neck.

Andy laughed at Miranda’s reaction to the soft ice pack she’d wrapped in a thin dish towel and held just below her hairline. “Sorry, I really didn’t intend to startle you…” She looked up with a playful gleam and leaned in closer.  “…much.”

Miranda shivered, not so much from the ice but from the words whispered seductively in her ear.  “I swear you are going to be the death of me.”  The words were menacing in the pitched tone she affected but the smile she bestowed left no doubt that she was far from angry.  Indeed, with the cooling properties of the ice water and ice pack she was starting to get her energy back; feeling more playful than she had in what seemed hours. 

To emphasize the point she fished an ice cube out of her glass when Andréa’s eyes were elsewhere and unceremoniously dropped it between two very nicely developed breasts.

The expected shriek and cussing was perhaps a bit louder than anticipated but Miranda smiled with self-satisfaction into the glare directed her way. 

“Miranda…” 

As Andréa rumbled low and gravelly various parts of her body perked up.

Affecting an innocence she’d not possessed in at least thirty years Miranda answered with a coy smile and lilting voice.  “Yes, Andy?”  She finished with a smirk at the flummoxed expression as once again she threw another off their game.

Andy nearly swallowed her tongue; only once before had she ever heard Miranda use the diminutive form of her name and she winced internally at the circumstance even as she looked on in wonder.  “Honestly woman, you are as unpredictable as the weather!”

“Mmmm; I suppose I am.  I do hope you don’t find it too difficult to keep up.”

They both shared a laugh which quieted into another one of their intense eye-staring sessions.

“We really need to talk.”

The penetrating blue gaze didn’t falter until Miranda dipped her head slightly. “Yes, we do.”

Andy was surprised by the easy acquiescence and searched for a place to start unaware that Miranda was also attempting to find a way forward.

After they settled back on the sofa one minute passed and then two until Miranda grew impatient with her own trepidation.  “Honestly you’d think this would be easier.”

Andy returned from an internal debate with a small smile, mostly from relief as her natural instinct to act as a mediator and fixer nearly spurred her to spill her heart while the part concerned with self-preservation and even pride cautioned her to hold back. 

 Miranda ran a slightly shaking hand through her silver hair further contributing to her state of dishabille. _Where to begin?_

“I am not really an easy person to…”  She cleared her throat, and paused, dissatisfied with that particular approach.

“Hmm, why I feel a sudden need to state the obvious…” This drew a slight chuckle from the woman seated a foot or so away on the sofa and a hand that moved to rest on her bare thigh, just above the knee.

Andy meant the gesture to be comforting but the softness of the skin and the awareness that she was touching the woman in an intimate manner, even if it was a casual intimacy, made her entire hand feel as though it were electrically charged.

Miranda observed the slight widening of the soft brown eyes and registered a sparking of desire that radiated out from the innocently placed hand.  With a force of will she ignored it, although not without a sigh, and returned to her task; feeling both relief and consternation when Andréa did not remove it.

“I feel a good many things for you.  You challenge and intrigue me like no one I’ve ever experienced and trust me, I’ve experienced a goodly number of individuals, both male and female.”  She paused and waited for a reaction, slightly disappointed when the usually transparent countenance before her maintained her steady, gentle smile.  “You don’t seem surprised by that Andréa, why is that?”

Andy’s smile broadened slightly as her eyes twinkled and she gave a small shrug then settled back into the cushions and stretched her legs out, propping her feet on the coffee table. “There’s something about you that I’ve been able to intuit; maybe you can even say recognize, that has always made me believe you’ve not limited your, ah, _associations_ because of gender.”  At the slightly unsettled look and further straightening of an already tense posture she hastened to add, “no, it’s not obvious or anything, I wasn’t even entirely sure, it’s just you don’t have that whatever it is that shuts down speculation by those that maybe are the same way.”

“So you are saying?”

“I’ve always been bi-sexual although I do believe I lean more towards women; and definitely one woman in particular.”  Her thumb seemed to take on a mind of its own then and lightly stroked the skin beneath her hand.

Miranda shivered and pushed the hand away. “I can’t think when you do that.”

Andy increased the wattage of her smile and showed some teeth; “Good; maybe thinking is not really what we need to be doing right now.”

This was met with an exaggerated casting of eyes to the heavens.  “Perhaps **_you_** do not need to but I can’t just go into something blindly.”

“Why not Miranda?”

“Because it’s not that easy!” 

It was only a minimal increase in volume but it was enough to telegraph that Miranda was still very conflicted about what was happening between them.  “So, explain it to me.  Start there.  Or maybe I should just go ahead and say it; I told myself that I needed to wait but I think I need to state for you very clearly my intentions because I want there to be no doubt.”  Andy put her hand back on Miranda’s leg, a few inches higher this time, and squeezed lightly.

“I want you; I want to be with you.”  Andy steadied her voice; she was finally able to bring all of the feelings she’d been experiencing for months to light.  “I admire you, I am fascinated by you, I desire you; I cannot get enough of looking at you and it has grown so incredibly hard not to reach out and touch you.  You have no idea what a struggle it’s been to work so closely together and be forced to pretend that my desire to please you and make your life as easy as possible was due only to wanting to be good at my job; that my desire _for you_ didn’t exist.”

Miranda interrupted, but her tone was not unkind, it was almost tender.  “You’re really not that good at pretending Andréa, as I alluded to in a prior conversation, I’ve known for months now of your attraction.”

Andy’s skin reddened once again but she ignored it and the confirmation that Miranda had known.  “And yet you didn’t send me away?”

Miranda was about to bite out that same half-truth she’d been feeding herself, _for how long exactly?_ , regarding the difficulties in finding good help but her voice faltered and she admitted plainly, “I couldn’t.”

They stared for several seconds when Andy sat up and shifted closer, lifting her hand and caressing the soft skin of a nearly smooth cheek with the backs of her fingers. “Did you also figure out that I’m ridiculously in love with you?  That I don’t want just your body but that I want **_you_** , all of you, to be with me?”

Miranda closed her eyes and shivered.  “I’ve suspected; perhaps even hoped.  But.”  She gripped the hand and pushed it to the couch between them, holding it back and away.  “But I’ve also hoped I was wrong.”

“But why, Miranda…?!”

“Shhh.”  She placed a finger on the sensual lower lip, forcing all of her energy into holding it back from its seemingly autonomous desire to trace the curves and dips of the entire mouth in hopes of drawing the return of a smile; the frown and hurt reflecting back were nearly too much.

“I have two reasons for saying that to you and neither are because I do not find you desirable or your desire tempting.”  Unconsciously Miranda slid forward a couple of inches, pulling a fidgeting hand into her lap and entwining their fingers.

“There are just facts Andréa that exist that make a relationship between us nearly impossible and both are due our ages.”  She squeezed the hand held in hers and willed the other woman to remain silent.  “I promise to listen to you but first I need you to hear me.  I am forty-nine years old and you I believe are what, twenty-eight?”  She waited for the nod and continued.  “Twenty-one years Andréa, twenty-one years!  Do you have any idea how significant a span that is?  If we were to become involved I will eventually hold you back, I will begin to look like an old woman in a decade at best, I will be seventy-one when you reach the age I am now.  Andréa I will die long before you, leaving you to face the remainder of your own life without a good chance at finding another as I will have robbed you of the ability to do so!”

Miranda’s throat muscles tightened, choking her words as she fought a nearly overwhelming sadness.

“Miranda!”  The strident tone pulled her back from the barren wasteland of bitterness into which she was descending.

Andy leveled her voice and chided; “Miranda, Miranda why am I even a little surprised that you have already planned the entirety of our potential relationship and negated the right for it to even begin.”  She shook her head in resignation.  “And based on only **_one_** of the infinite possibilities of how it could or maybe, play out?!” This time it was Andy who stood and paced the area between coffee table and television, mumbling in agitation.

Finally she stopped and pinned Miranda with a glare that impressed even “The Dragon”. “You are so fucking exasperating sometimes and the only reason I’m not thoroughly pissed right now with you is because while voicing your reservations you’ve shown me that you really do care.  But that’s not a free pass, not even close.”  She looked at her quizzically for a moment then continued.  “Has it occurred to you that by trying to make sure I’m never hurt in some future-maybe-place that you _are_ hurting me **now** by taking away my power to decide for myself?” 

She turned abruptly and took several more turns back and forth before grabbing the damp hair that had come loose from her pony tail and lifting it off of her neck.  “Arhhh!  Truly you…”  Several deep breaths and Andy regained her control.  She seemed to deflate a bit and moved back towards the couch, dropping back onto it in an ungracious manner.  “Okay, look, yes I’m younger than you but not so young that I don’t know my own mind or more importantly, my own heart.  So you don’t get to decide.  You decide for yourself if you want me or not but you don’t get to do it out of some noble, but wrong, wrong, **_wrong_** idea that you will be taking something away from me if you do decide to let me in.  And yeah, I do get what you didn’t say this time but I remember from earlier; but I promise you, I won’t hurt you like that, I wouldn’t…”

Miranda could take remaining silent no longer and bit out angrily.  “How could you even begin to promise me that in ten years you won’t wake up and look across the bed and decide that I _was_ really too old and that you’d made a mistake?  Andréa you are not even close to hitting your sexual peak whereas I’m on the other side of it.  How will you feel when all I am interested in is perhaps your companionship?  I’ve never been with anyone where the sexual interest remains; that goes away, it always goes away.”

“Christ Miranda!  It’s not just about sex!  Although I don’t believe that that’s inevitable; sure it may take some work on both our parts but that’s what happens in **_any_** relationship; it’s not all about **_you_** or your age!” Andy took another deep breath; she really wanted to not get overly excited, as she did tend towards a more expressive manner of communicating when she was either angry or felt challenged.  “I’m not naïve enough to think your age isn’t going to be an issue but Miranda, every relationship has issues!”

Miranda was growing increasingly desperate for the stubborn woman to understand. “Yes!  I know that.  But don’t you see?  The ultimate issue is that there is an overwhelming probability that I will die before you.  You deserve to build a family and have that family with you until _you_ are old!”

“Miranda, there are **_no_** guarantees of that happening regardless of who I choose!”  Andy thought of Jess and could barely stop a sudden flood of tears.

“I don’t think you truly understand what you’re saying.  You don’t know what it will feel like…”

That did it; those final few words snapping the already stretched band holding Andy’s anger at being essentially patronized, at bay.

“You know what Miranda?!  Shut up!  Just stop talking right now!”  Andy was once again on her feet but this time she didn’t move away, just stood, breathing heavily with an expression that carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

Miranda gaped up at her, too shocked to consider a retort.

Andy leaned forward putting her hands on her hips.  “For someone who obviously has the _benefit of years_ to gain all that life knowledge you really don’t have a fucking clue so stop making assumptions about what I do and do not ‘understand’!”

Miranda stared at the disheveled, sweating and lightly panting vision of her former assistant like she’d never seen her before.  And perhaps she really hadn’t.  This passionate woman with the deadly serious expression was so completely different from the naïve girl that started working for her nearly two years before; different from the beautiful butterfly who had emerged from her mundane tweed cocoon; different even from the sensual suitor who had been so forward with her intentions.  No, this woman was magnificent and magnificently complex and Miranda was enraptured.  Acceptance of the possibility that this woman did understand exactly what she was asking, that she wasn't going to give up when the life between them grew difficult, birthed the first tiny shoots of hope in an austere landscape of daily precision. 

It was then Miranda realized that her heart had already decided months before, defying her more cynical mind as it underplayed the possibility and clamored for action to remove the temptation.  She should have known when she couldn’t send her away that this moment was inevitable; Andréa had become as necessary as breathing and she wanted so badly to give in as holding back was like rationing the amount of oxygen she took in. 

Before the silence between them could grow too long and lead to further disharmony Miranda stood slowly, closely invading Andréa’s personal space; where she took agitated hands within her own and rubbed them gently.

“Then help me understand.  I want to and I promise that I **_will_** listen.”

lXlXlXl

Andy was stopped short by the sincerity of Miranda’s assurance but still she hesitated.

“I need to calm down first; I don’t want to talk about it when I’m still angry.”

Miranda’s allowed her ever-present poker face a moment of respite and offered softly; “I am sorry; I didn’t intend for you to feel like I was deciding for you.”  In a rare admission of fallibility she offered an explanation.  “You know how I’m used to running the show; it’s a hard habit to break and something I don’t believe I’ve had much success with in my private life.”

“Yeah, well you managed to hit just about all of my buttons in one round.  I hate feeling powerless in my relationships and it’s not something I’ll accept, ever.”  She stared meaningfully until deciding to settle onto the couch once again. 

She was about to speak when a small chime notified her of a new text message.  “Damn, we forgot the one-thirty check-in.”

“I thought we’d decided to save our batteries and only turn our phones on once an hour.”

As Andy fired off a quick assurance to her parents that they were still intact and sent one to the twins as well, she shrugged.

“I forgot to turn off my phone and mother was very persistent.”

Miranda snorted, intuiting that she had just witnessed a very extreme understatement.  “Yes, well I’m sure she is just thrilled that it’s me with whom you are trapped.”

Not wishing to have the impending discussion sidetracked Andy just smiled enigmatically and offered only a playful, “Perhaps.”

The byplay soothed her disquiet but her newly found calm was displaced when she felt a slight shimmy beneath her feet.  Looking up she caught Miranda’s eye who nodded; having also felt it.

Afraid to really know they headed in tandem to the doors but their vision was severely limited by the force of the wind driven water against the glass.  “Dammit, I wish we could see what’s going on!”

“Have you tried any of the windows on the other side of the house?”  Andy shook her head, having forgotten that the back bedrooms on that floor had windows as the third level did not. 

They headed to the room Nigel had used and, since it was on the lee-side of the house and there was no patio to block their view they were able to gain a better picture of their circumstances.

“Uh, we’re surrounded by water!”

Miranda once again had to adjust her list of impossible things to witness as she stared hard through the rain slicked glass at what used to be the back yard.  They could make out the shed which, as it was constructed of cinderblock, had so far survived the wind, water surrounding it to just below the door knob; or at least what would have been the door knob if the door had still been present.

Andy, mesmerized, commented distractedly; “I’ve always wondered what a storm surge would be like; did it come in all at once like a tidal wave or was it something different?”

Miranda noted how the water rose slowly but steadily, and absently shifted sideways, so only a small gap was left between them as their hands rested on the window sill.  “I think you now have your answer.”

But it wasn’t just that the water had come up like a flooded river; choppy waves, the type of which were only seen out beyond the beachhead, rolled by, spray whipping up in a lather. 

“So the house, we’re feeling the waves and water moving it?”

“Remember the Shiavone’s said it would likely occur, that the house was designed to give and sway; that it was a part of how it would survive.”

“I know; it’s just weird.”  She slid up tighter to Miranda’s side and slid an arm around her waist while placing her palm against the glass.  “The glass on this side is hardly moving; I guess it just happens when the wind is blowing against it.”

Miranda, ever curious about her surroundings, smiled in the apparent kindred spirit found in the younger woman.  “Shall we head back to the other room?  I’d like to look at the radar and check the latest forecasts; the two o’clock report should be released soon."

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute; I need to make a stop first.”  Andy sheepishly looked down then made for the main bathroom that served the second level common areas; it had the only toilet in the house they could use now since it was a composting toilet.  Once again she marveled at the forethought the owners had put into the building of the house, shuddering at how uncomfortable the situation would be if they didn’t have this luxury and sparing a brief second of amusement as she imagined Miranda’s reaction to the alternative. She quickly finished as the darkness in the room, despite the small electric lantern she was using, coupled with the increasingly noticeable movement of the house sent her adrenalin rushing; sparking a wave of claustrophobic near panic.

Uttering a mantra she’d used many times over the past years she pushed open the door and extinguished the lantern; hurrying back to the main room like one of the hounds of hell was at her heels.

lXlXlXl

“So the eye is aiming at Port St. Joe, that’s northwest of us by…”  Andy was looking at Google maps, trying to figure out where they were going to be in relation to the storm’s eye.  “I don’t know, thirty miles?” 

Miranda frowned, “Isn’t the eastern side of a hurricane the worst?”

“Well considering our luck with proximity so far I’d guess that it’s a yes.”

“So, the eyewall in about an hour and a half or so away.”  Andy attempted to go back to the hurricane center site but got the standard message when there was no connection.  She clicked on the internet access portal but couldn’t get anything and sat back with a sigh.  “The internet connection is acting up again.”  Over the course of the morning their built-in Wi-Fi cards had both experienced lapses; she turned the laptop off to conserve its battery.

“What about our phones?”

“I still have one service bar; at least we shouldn’t have too much trouble with a lot of traffic competing for usagesince the entire area was under a mandatory evacuation.  I’m going to shoot a text to my folks, it’s not time for another check-in yet but I want them to know what’s up.  They’ll send updates.”

They waited long tense minutes before the chime of an incoming text let them know their message was heard.  “At least that’s still working.”

“Oh and dad said the worst side is to the right of whichever direction it’s moving.  So, since it’s moving north-east we may not get the absolute worst.”

“Small comfort.”  Miranda mumbled. 

Andy stood and stretched then started pacing around the space; after about five minutes of her moving from doors to windows to doors again Miranda huffed.  “Are you able to sit down?”

“I can’t, I hate just sitting and doing nothing.  Makes me feel helpless and trapped.”  Andy’s voice trailed off and her gaze went far away until she shook visibly before she focused on Miranda.  “I’ll go look out the back, maybe pace out of your sight for a while.”

Miranda sat in the “quiet” of the room which seemed to be moving in a more noticeable way; between that and the howling of the wind which sounded like a muffled freight train she grew more uncomfortable and finally decided that a pacing Andy was better than sitting alone.

As she walked back she mused on her mental use of “Andy”; but came up with nothing except that it had felt right at that moment.  When she crossed the threshold into the bedroom she felt a stronger vibration throughout the house and Andréa’s exclamation of “Holy shit!” hastened her progress towards the window.  She arrived in time to watch the shed, now with only its partially intact roof above water, disintegrate completely.

“How high is that water now?”

There was another loud crashing sound, this time sounding as though it were much closer, and then a banging and they watched as what appeared to be one of the garage doors was carried in the swiftly moving waters until it got stuck on some tree tops, twisting further under the pounding waves.

“Never mind.” Miranda muttered.  “I’d say it doesn’t really matter.” _Seeing as how we’ve crossed into the realm of measuring the degrees of catastrophic._  

“Yeah it’s sorta like worrying about the number of teeth a shark has while it’s munching on your…” 

Miranda didn’t wait for the completion of the sentence to interrupt. “Yes, yes, thank you for the metaphorical hyperbole.”

Not even trying to conceal her eye-roll Andy returned to topic.  “Fine; back to the garage doors; they’re expendable so it’s a good thing; water gets to flow right under us.”

“I know!  Doesn’t make it better really; thinking about it, about the water surrounding us, getting closer.”

Andy moved until her front was pressed up against Miranda’s back and encircled her waist with her arms, holding tight.  “Miranda, hey, I know, it’s freaking me out too, but we _are_ safe in here.  This place is absolutely brilliant, we’re going to be okay; I just know it.”

Miranda turned in the embrace and searched the dark eyes for any hint of wavering, finding only conviction. 

“Perhaps if we were to continue our discussion from before it would take our minds off of all this.”

“Okay, but let’s go back up front; I want us to keep an eye on the water height and the waves; at some point I’m thinking we might want to go upstairs.”

They made their way back to the kitchen just as a massive wave crashed over the balcony sloshing with force into the patio doors.  They held firm, even as some of the flotsam that had landed there earlier was slammed into the walls next to it. 

Miranda gripped Andy’s hand like it was a vice.  “I think I’d be more comfortable upstairs.”  Andy wasn’t about to argue so they gathered up their electronics, including the weather radio, two coolers, some food and Miranda’s carry-on bag then climbed the curving staircase that led up to Andy’s room.

If it were possible it was even hotter on the third floor and once they’d settled in Miranda stripped off the blanket from the bed, throwing it over a nearby chair, and plopped, in a very unladylike manner, onto the cotton sheets.  At Andy’s questioning look she shrugged and offered; “it’ll be cooler this way.”

Andy sauntered across the large room, slid onto the bed and crawled over to where Miranda had leaned back, propped by several pillows and the headboard and proceeded to playfully straddle the surprised woman.  “Why Miranda, a girl might think that you were trying to get her into bed for reasons other than talk.”

They were only a heartbeat away from one another when both moved in to seek a soft kiss which quickly burst into flames.

“God Miranda…” Andy drew back just long enough to capture the slightly unfocused gaze and pant out a breathless, “you, you short-circuit me.”

When it appeared as though Miranda was reaching to draw her in once again Andy stilled her hand as she rolled her body over to the side, ending up sitting cross-legged against Miranda’s still stretched legs.

For fear of losing her nerve Andy started speaking.  “You’ve made an assumption about my life and it’s coloring your perceptions regarding us; about what we can or maybe more accurately, what we _should_ be.” 

Miranda moved forward so her arms pulled her knees closer in towards her chest and rested her chin on her knees, glittering eyes taking in every facial expression and unconscious fidget.

Andy looked down at her hands for a moment, willing them to still their nervous tapping.  Aside from her parents, Lily and Doug who’d been there to help pull her through the aftermath, she’d never spoken of this to anyone not a professional, including Nate.

She looked up and strengthened her resolve, sitting up straighter.  “That assumption is wrong.” 

Andy’s lower lip began to quiver and Miranda now had an understanding that this was not going to be merely a presentation of a well-thought out argument for why they should be together; that at the core lay something deeper, something that had affected Andréa profoundly.  She maintained her silence but reached out a hand and covered the one closest to her, noting that it was shaking.

Andy looked down at the fingers now entwined with hers; it had only been a little over a day and already she knew if she were not to have them to comfort her and give her strength that it would be a loss she wasn’t sure she could accept. 

“The first person I ever fell in love with was my best friend.  Myself, Lily and Jess, short for Jessica, met in first grade and we were inseparable.”  She smiled at the memory. “When I was fourteen and Jess fifteen, she was one of the oldest kids in our class while I was the youngest, that’s how we were in the same grade…” Andy shook her head at her digression.  “…well we kind of realized that we liked each other in a way that girls liked boys.”

Andy sniffled a little but continued.  “It was funny, our parents were friends and they all had figured it out before we did.”  She looked up, eyes brimming with tears.  “There wasn’t any painful ‘coming out’ or any drama really, we liked each other and they treated us like we were boyfriend and girlfriend; which meant no sleep overs unless of course Lily was there as chaperone.” She laughed; “We didn’t even really do anything, at least at first, but then when Jess got her driver’s license over the summer between freshman and sophomore years and we were able to go out on dates without a parent driving us; that started to change.”  

Andy looked far away for a moment and paused; swiping with her free hand at a tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye and sniffled again.  Miranda reached over to the night stand and grabbed a tissue for her, keeping her other hand firmly wrapped around Andy’s.

Andy flashed a watery smile and wiped her eyes and nose.  “It was one of the best summers of my life.  We went to parties and played on a summer league softball team, went to movies and drive-ins. Drive-ins were the best; her parents had gotten her this big old Caddie to drive, thought she’d be safer…”  Andy practically choked when she realized what she had said and closed her eyes trying to pull herself back into her memories of the good times.  “Uhm, it had this big back seat that we somehow always found ourselves in.”

Andy rubbed her face and took a deep breath, continuing to talk down to her legs.  “And then school started.  We had nearly all the same classes together; I remember we were so happy that first day back that we weren’t going to be separated. Lily and Doug pretty much had the same schedule too, except that Jess and I had last period study hall and since we were both honor students we could take early dismissal. Jess of course picked me up that morning and after our last class we headed out to the car.  But it wasn’t the Cadillac since there was something wrong with it, I don’t remember; she had her brother’s Toyota Corolla…”

Andy licked her lips and closed her eyes again; memories of that terrible afternoon still jumbled together at times.  “This is harder than I thought it would be, I’ve never told anyone who wasn’t there, except for the therapist they made me go see, but no one who I…”

The house shook again and there was a distant crashing sound; both women looked up and Andy noted that Miranda was looking about ready to investigate so tightened her grip.  “Don’t worry about whatever that was, it sounded like before, probably another one of the garage doors.  I need to do this now or I might never do it and I want you to understand, I need you to understand why I feel the way I do.”

Miranda forced her body to relax and settled back onto the bed only this time sitting cross-legged, mirroring Andy’s position, their hands still connected.

Andy focused on their joined hands and continued speaking, this time in a voice so low Miranda had to lean in closer to hear.  “We were pulling out of the parking lot, making a left hand turn when the entire world exploded.  They told me later that it was one of those big extra-cab pickups; some contractor guy was late for a job and was talking on his cell phone, speeding through the school zone.”  Silent tears were now streaming down her face and she sniffled, swiping at them with the useless tissue.  “Jess never saw him and the impact killed her instantly.”

Andy bit the inside of her trembling lower lip as she let go of Miranda’s hand and hugged herself.

“Andréa…” Miranda found she didn’t have the first clue of what to say so instead reached for the box of tissues and set them in the space between them.

Andy pulled several from the box and blew her nose. “No, let me finish.  The accident and Jess being killed was horrible but the worst thing for me, aside from knowing I’d never hear her laugh or hear her tell me that she loved me ever again, was that the impact pushed the entire driver’s side into the center of the car; it was a standard transmission, the top part had broken off and the shaft of the gear shift ended up being shoved into my hip; between that and a broken collar bone and arm, I couldn’t move.”  She unconsciously rubbed her left arm before wrapping herself tightly into a self-contained hug once again. 

“I was conscious the whole time.  The pain was unbearable but even that went away after a while, shock I guess and maybe they gave me something for the pain, I don’t know, none of that is clear really.”

Andy picked up her head and looked now directly at Miranda.  “The only clear image I do have of all that was Jess’ beautiful face, only a foot away from my own, her eyes wide open but she wasn’t there any longer.  It took about an hour for them to cut me out, an entire hour…”  Her voice wavered and she grimaced.  “…with Jess’ blood all over me, and I couldn’t move because they were afraid it’d nick an artery and I’d bleed out before they could get me freed.”

An unsettling queasiness swept through Andy and the large room felt like it was shrinking to a quarter of its size; in a bid at combating the confined feeling she sat up straight and rolled herself off the bed, soothing herself by repetitively walking the space between the bed and the patio doors.

Miranda watched as Andy began her now familiar rhythmic movement.  The pacing and the panic attack earlier now all making sense; actually a lot about her former assistant now became clearer.  Her own emotions were tumbling over themselves, the trauma that Andréa experienced blending with the harrowing memories of her own and shame at making assumptions about the woman mostly due to her age.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that.  No one should have to go through what you did.”  Miranda’s face was wet with tears but she ignored them.

Andy stopped her pacing and turned towards the soft voice.  “You know I didn’t tell you all of that so you would feel sorry for me.”

Miranda looked up at the suddenly hardened voice and cut off Andy’s next words before the misunderstanding could grow roots.  “No, I don’t pity you.  I _ache_ for you, for that young woman who had to lose so much so quickly.”  She worked her throat muscles, swallowing repeatedly and clenched her jaw trying to stem the tide of emotion brought about by visualizing Andréa pinned in the wreckage, broken, having to endure so much physical hurt and emotional pain with seemingly no escape. 

Andy stopped her pacing and moved back towards the bed. Miranda had once again drawn her knees up to her chest and had wrapped her arms around them, chin on her knees.  Andy crawled behind her and settled her legs on either side then wrapped her arms around her waist, placing her chin on Miranda’s shoulder.

Sniffling back the effects of her own tears she spoke softly. “Miranda, hey, I don’t want you to cry; I just needed you to understand.  It doesn’t matter how old either one of us is, Jess was only sixteen and we had our entire lives before us; there’s just no guarantees and neither of us know what the future will bring.  What I do know is that I would rather have ten, five or hell, even one year with you than never have you in my life at all.”

She buried her nose into the soft hair and nuzzled that place behind Miranda’s ear that made both of them shiver.

Miranda turned into the embrace, shifting so they were nearly face to face and reached up to smooth away the tears still drying on Andy’s cheeks; looking into the soft eyes so open and hopeful. There were still so many hurdles to face, so many barriers they’d have to overcome but she was now convinced they weren’t as important as having this incredible woman in her life.  Andréa was right, there were no guarantees and no way to know the future; did she really want to deny what they both obviously wanted so badly based upon what “could” happen?  She had always found a way to make the impossible possible, they both had really, and she’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted Andréa Sachs.

Giving Andréa plenty of time to pull away if she wasn’t in a place to reciprocate Miranda ceased to fight the incredible pull she’d always felt around her.  When their lips were only separated by the slightest glimmer of light she finally capitulated completely to her heart’s desire and whispered “If you’ll have me darling I _am_ willing to be yours.”

Elation leapt into the space next to the sadness in Andy’s heart and she responded by crushing their mouths together in a kiss so electric it could have powered the house.  Andy rose up without losing contact and shifted so she was on her knees between Miranda’s legs bringing their bodies even closer.  Miranda’s hands slid down her back until they reached her behind where they stopped, gripping the muscled flesh so tightly that Andy could only moan out her pleasure.

The vibration caused by Andréa’s low and sensual exclamation set liquid fire through Miranda’s veins and she responded enthusiastically; sparking a new round of exploration of tongues and hands.  Miranda slid her hands up the well-developed rear, fingers delighting in their touch, greedily wanting more.  As if they had a mind of their own the hem of Andréa’s tank was pushed up and the warm hands found the sweat-soaked skin.

Miranda broke away from the kiss and hissed, “You, I want to feel you; all of you; I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin if I can’t have you now.”

When Miranda broke their kiss Andy wasted no time, trailing her tongue down the long neck, biting down at the skin where neck and collarbone met when Miranda’s hands connected with the bare skin of her back.  “God but I love the taste of your skin.” She lapped at the glistening pale expanse, and put her own hands to good use, tracing the soft muscles of Miranda’s abdomen and lower back.

The wetness between Andy’s legs became more pronounced and the ache that was rising within robbed her of all sense even as she moved back to Miranda’s mouth and proceeded to draw every last breath from her lungs.

Their bodies were fused tightly together now, with only the thin layers of sweat-soaked clothing separating them and they each rocked lightly into the other.  Andy’s hand had just begun to drift below the elastic waistband of both shorts and underwear when the chiming of her cell phone, barely heard above their heavy breathing and the storm that was raging even louder outside, drew them both back to their circumstances.

Miranda pulled back with a sigh and rested her forehead on Andréa’s.  “You make me forget about everything; I _was_ right, you _are_ dangerous.”  She smiled in a dazed but wicked manner, “But in the most delightful way.”

Their lips sought one another yet again until finally they both pulled back and Andy allowed her body’s center of gravity to tilt backwards, placing her flat on her back.

Miranda, never one to waste an opportunity, pushed forward and straddled the prone woman, delivering a driving kiss before backing off and grabbing the phone that lay discarded on the bed next to them.

She looked at the message and paled.

Andy noted the look and pulled the phone from fingers gone slightly slack.  It was then that the winds seemed to double their efforts yet again and the house began to sway as the windows and doors that looked out onto the third floor balcony began to pulse in the most violent manner possible. The storm was turning east and the eye-wall, with its sustained winds of one hundred and sixty four miles an hour and surge tide of over sixteen feet, was nearly upon them.


	10. Chapter 10

Andy remained where she lay, staring at the ceiling while Miranda was positioned back in what she was realizing was the editor’s own version of self-protection; arms pulling bent legs forward with chin to knees although this time Miranda’s head was turned so her cheek rested on her knees, eyes seemingly fixated on the continually moving glass and the water that was now seeping it seemed through every tiny seam and crevasse.

Attempting to affect as normal a voice as possible and marveling at the sound-proofed nature of the house that allowed that to be nearly possible, Andy’s eyes tracked the growing puddle on the floor.  “I watched some video about that earlier on YouTube; during Ivan this hurricane chaser was holed up in a parking garage and the outer walls were made of concrete block, the wind was so strong that it drove the rain and sea spray through the seams. But it didn’t make the walls fail.”  She noticed that a tiny trickle was making its way towards her suitcase and stood, heading into the bathroom where she grabbed several towels out of the hamper.  “Just messy.”

She wiped up the floor and decided to leave the towel where it lay as it looked like it would be needed again and moved her suitcase towards the inside wall.  “I’m going to go check downstairs, maybe see if I need to put some towels down around the door.  You going to be okay here by yourself for a few?” 

When Miranda didn’t respond Andy decided to just go; being as quick as possible.  Making her way down the spiral stairs in the home’s interior she fought her own discomfort as the movement of the house was unsettling even though she knew from some of the research her father had done and relayed to her earlier in the day that the pylons went down seventeen feet and were made of a material designed to absorb the stress. 

She reached the kitchen and was relieved to find that the water seeping into the house wasn’t any worse than upstairs.  She spared a second to consider the oddity for it couldn’t even be defined as a trickle really, until at least enough gathered on the floor to creep outwards, but water emanated, it seemed, from every micron-thin joint.  She arranged the towels so they’d catch the moisture and was about to head upstairs when she spied the bar against the wall; not knowing if it was a good idea or not and not sure which Miranda would prefer, she grabbed both a bottle of scotch and a bottle of vodka along with some highball glasses. Alcohol was really never a good way to cope with emotional stress but perhaps in this situation it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. They couldn’t do anything about their survival now; the house would either hold or it wouldn’t and Andy decided that one or two stiff ones would take the edge off of her anxiety.

Sparing one final moment to look out at what must surely be the worst part of the storm Andy felt some lessening of her anxiety. The storm driven ocean water looked as though it might just remain below the second level as it seemed only the larger waves were making it over the patio wall and that hadn’t changed since they’d gone upstairs. 

As Andy stood mesmerized, the journalist in her surfaced once again and she grabbed her camera, still on the counter with the anemometer. Spying a look at the wind speed, Andy was shocked to see the readout was maintaining a mostly steady one hundred and fifty-three with a gust hitting one hundred and sixty-two; still below what was forecasted. Marveling at nature yet again and at the violent shaking of the windows she recorded more video as well as took several pictures; she would never forget this experience but knew that others would be interested whether for the science, curiosity or just the sheer coolness of it. 

Andy laughed; she supposed if it wasn’t that her life and Miranda’s were threatened she’d be able to appreciate just how amazing this experience really was. Realizing that she had more items to carry than hands she grabbed a mesh beach bag off one of the hooks near the door and stashed everything; even including a lime she swiped from the refrigerator.

Andy made her way back upstairs, the swaying of the house making the climb up the open-back stairs more of a challenge than usual.  It wasn’t like one of those fun-house moving stair rides, more like being slightly inebriated and trying to maintain one’s balance.  She set the bag down on the table in the corner of her room and looked back over to Miranda who appeared to not have moved a muscle in her absence.  Concerned, she approached until she was standing next to the bed, making sure to be in Miranda’s field of vision, and waited.

After several moments of observation Miranda had yet to speak and she noted that the normally pale-complexioned woman had lost even more of her color, if that was even possible. Andy worried at her lower lip, debating whether or not she should just leave her to her own devices but after deliberation decided that if there was a way to help she just had to try and damn the consequences.  She caught a brief replay of their exchange after the last time she decided to “help”; the “Unfortunate Galveston Incident” as she had taken to referring to it, in her own mind of course, and shuddered; she’d learned a very valuable lesson and wasn’t about to repeat it. 

Deciding upon a different although no less impetuous path she slid back onto the bed, once again positioning her body flush up against Miranda’s back.  Several minutes crawled by with no indication that her presence was either welcomed or acknowledged.  While she awaited inspiration to guide her next moves Andy couldn’t help but focus on the way the other woman felt in her arms.  Yes it was still hotter and stickier than even the worst August day in her hometown of Cincinnati but the sensual curves of hips where they contacted Andy’s inner thighs and a heightened awareness of the distinctive scent, not unpleasant and made stronger by the conditions, caused Andy to forget all about the storm raging around them.  Pushing even more tightly up against the still unresponsive woman Andy brought her hand up and lifted the pale hair off of the sweating neck, blowing lightly, before laying her lips to the skin where she dropped tiny kisses that graduated into a languid sweeping of her tongue along the upper vertebrae of her spine as it mapped every curve and bump, while collecting the residual salt.

lXlXlXl

Miranda was probably the most freaked out she had ever been in her life.  All of the knowledge they’d acquired about both house and storm should have been enough to calm her fears but for some unfathomable reason it didn’t.  So she sat immobilized, much like her child self after half of her family’s apartment had disappeared right in front of her, eyes locked on the evidence of the storm as it attempted to breach their haven, engaged in an analysis of why she was nearly quaking in fear with a goodly amount of self-castigation thrown in for being so thoroughly engulfed by the irrationality of her reactions.

Wrapped up in her emotional byplay, she didn’t notice Andy’s movements until the bed dipped and the heat that had surrounded her ever since the air conditioning had ceased grew tenfold.  Even then her turmoil hauled her attention back inward and the debate raged again, this time augmented by imagined scenes of waves breaking through the glass and metal barrier as water wrenched them from one another, sweeping them out to their certain death.

lXlXlXl

Andy’s wandering tongue led her towards the juncture of neck and collarbone where the need to nip and pull the hot flesh into her mouth was too strong to be ignored.  Hands too could no longer remain still and they lowered to the hem of the tank, pushing upwards to map the softness of a curving belly that overlay strong abdominal muscles and up further where skin stretched over ribs.  She stopped when the barrier of material that covered the tantalizing swell of breasts allowed her no further passage then skimmed the flat of her hands back down where they met the impediment of the waistband of Miranda’s shorts.  Stymied she groaned quietly in frustration.

lXlXlXl

The warmth at Miranda’s back seemed to spread outwards to the very edges of her body as visions of their impending death were overshadowed by a hollow throbbing in her center.  A bite pricked at the skin of her shoulder as hands slid past the waistband of her shorts sliding in tandem along her outer thighs until they dipped partially under her, palming the globes of her ass.

lXlXlXl

A loud moan was wrenched from both women waking each to the other; breaking through the hazy twilight state into which they’d descended.

Andy slowly drew her hands upwards but only in increments until they palmed the silk-encased hips, driving a long sigh out of the woman in her arms.

Her mouth mapped the return journey from shoulder to just below an ear adorned by a simple diamond earring and she stopped to tug at the lobe, teasing the jewel with the tip of her tongue. At the full body shiver that resulted, Andy was assured that Miranda was now fully present with her and exhaled a breathless plea into her ear.

“Please Miranda,” Another nip, this time behind the ear, and her hands moved back up and under the tank top settling just beneath the silk of her barely there bra. “…please let me love you;” her hands could wait no longer and she cupped the full mounds in both hands, giving the gentlest of squeezes. “…make love with me.”

At the aching plea Miranda’s inner prizefighter was knocked completely out of the ring and her hyperawareness of the violent natural disaster unfolding beyond their bed kicked to the mental curb as her body responded with a singular focus.  Movement exploded through the last vestiges of frozen inaction turning her body so she could drive a bruising kiss into those lips that had all but begged for her attention.

As if neither could abide the confines of clothing another second longer, hands pulled tanks and bras over heads while shorts and panties were unceremoniously pushed down and kicked away.  The first time their naked forms drew together they froze, the laser blue stare riveting all of Andy’s attention as her body melded with every dip and curve; gravity pulling Miranda into an embrace that surpassed any other she had  experienced.

Miranda relished the fit of their bodies for more than a dozen seconds, content to absorb the magnitude of the moment before moving so her thighs slid to either side of Andréa’s legs; spreading herself open even as she pushed down and forward into the hot center below her.  Coiled like a spring every nerve ending tingled and the wetness that had been building slid from her center onto the woman below.

Not breaking eye contact she used the slickness of both of their skins to advantage and began to rock her body into and then away, captivated by the look of absolute bliss on the face below.

“Andréa,” she whispered. “My oh so, so beautiful, Andy.”  She feathered kisses along the jawline and then Andy’s cheeks but didn’t linger long; drawn like a bee to pollen back to those lips that melded with her own.

Andy melted further at the manner in which Miranda breathed out the shorter version of her name; a slightly breathless “Ah” that tumbled into the rest of the word, then breaking off quickly.

“Ohhh.”  Andy’s neurons were firing in a rapid staccato, the bristling tingle of dampened curly hair as it slid against her belly and lower sending her hips upwards to increase the friction.  Her hands glided up and down the arched back above, nails dragging as her fingers unconsciously flexed until finally finding the soft globes and gripping hard, pulling the undulating body forward.

Miranda surged into the sudden grasping, needing so badly to feel more, fingers now pinching at the hardened nipples until another nearly agonized groan was ripped from Andrea’s throat.  The sound caused every nerve ending to tingle and her body slid down and forward to satisfy her mouth’s longing to latch onto the stiff buds.  Feeling the wetness on her own belly as Andréa rocked intently; Miranda’s mouth salivated and once again dictated action.  Without further preamble she slid her tongue down the long torso and dove into the salty-tangy sweetness, tongue sweeping broadly from opening to the hardened bundle of nerves that drew a shriek from Andy’s lips.

Andy felt her walls tremble and pulse, almost in time it seemed to the rhythmic motion of the windows as the strongest winds they’d experience yet pounded relentlessly against their shelter.  Needing more she bent her knees and brought her legs back, gripping her ankles so her legs were spread as far as they would go.

“Please, Miran…oh god, Rand, ah…”

Miranda responded by sliding two fingers into the slippery warmth, a shudder shaking through her from head to toe as they were spasmodically gripped and she continued her messy feast; lips sucking and tongue twirling, licking until she focused the tip at that one spot she detected that seemed to drive the quaking body below the most unhinged.

Andy was nearly reaching her point of no return but held back, tears gathering as the reality of what she was doing and with whom she was doing it was painted in vibrant tones of the flame red of her need and searing blue of the eyes that watched her, seemingly in a trance as Miranda’s mouth relentlessly worked at drawing her into the ultimate pleasure.  Unable to stop the inevitable, Andy arched a final time and keened as the all of everything she had wanted coalesced into one bright, shining exquisite connection of pleasure, beauty, gratefulness and love.

Watching and feeling Andréa as she peaked crashed through Miranda like one of those waves presently battering their house but instead of a fear that would have held her to grip tighter in resistance she let go and allowed herself to be carried along with it.   Fingers withdrew and spread the abundant moisture over the length of Andréa’s crease as a renewed desire to drive Andréa further into pleasure drove her to plunge three fingers into the still fluttering depths, searching for that place within that, when found, caused Andréa to surge upwards with a wrenching gasp as Miranda stretched up and sealed her mouth around a rock-hard nipple.  The scream that tore through the room as Andy came again brought a minor explosion of light behind her eyes and a trembling within her own center.

They collapsed against one another and when Miranda moved to pull her fingers out was surprised when the well-muscled thighs closed around her hand, holding her within the warm wetness.

“No.”  It was a feeble plea and Miranda’s gaze was drawn to tear-drowned eyes.

Andy looked over at the sudden worry furrowing Miranda’s brow but her pleasure-crowded neural pathways couldn’t process why they looked so concerned, until the trickle of something wet dripped into her right ear and she realized she was crying.

“Ahhhh…”  She had shifted slightly and the fingers still buried within bumped just the right place, sending another shower of pleasure sparking through her veins.  She closed her eyes and gathered enough moisture in her mouth to speak.  “I’m alright, I just…”  Andy had no idea what she was feeling exactly but forced her muddled brain to find something that would alleviate the increasingly worried look on Miranda’s face. 

“Feels so, so good.  I…”  She lifted a hand, made shaky by her weakened extremities and traced the lines around Miranda’s eyes.  “I never dreamt it could be like that…”  She shifted once more, delighting in the tingling before opening her legs and allowing Miranda to remove her fingers.  In a move that shocked even her she grasped Miranda’s wrist firmly, reminiscent of the night before, and brought the hand close to her face, inhaling then taking each finger individually into her mouth, caressing and slowly but forcefully sucking, drawing a groan as unsteady as the trembling fingers captured in her warmth.  As Andy continued her laving assault, her pupil blackened eyes widened as the blue of Miranda’s eyes was hidden briefly behind a curtain of pale eyelashes and bare eyelids while a smile that could only be termed as blissful graced the lovely, pale features hovering above her.

After at least a minute had passed, each blistering the other with sparking eyes; Andy felt restored enough to answer her desire to know every part of the woman she had swiftly positioned beneath her.  Kissing so fiercely that Miranda’s head was driven back into the mattress, Andy dipped into the as yet untouched wetness then dragged the soaking fingers up the quivering torso, painting both hardened nipples then devouring each in succession with tongue and teeth.

All of Miranda’s prior expectations as to what a sexual encounter with Andréa Sachs would be like dissipated like ash in a strong wind as the sodden fingers ascended her body, disappearing completely as lips suctioned her nipples into even harder peaks as sharp teeth nipped and scraped.

When that same hand slid back down for more, making to once again wander away, she locked her thighs together and spat out an imperious “Don’t you dare move those fingers away from me.”  She thrilled when the eyes above her alit with mischief and strong hands pulled her upwards, turning her over with seemingly little effort.  The heat then descended along the entire length of her body as Andréa settled on top of her and dragged hands down the sides of her body, settling at her hips before they slid, palms against her skin until meeting where her mound touched the mattress.

Miranda squirmed as fingers slid and pulled the curl-topped flesh back, exposing her hardened clit to the cotton material below as her legs were forced apart.  Andy settled between them, opening Miranda until the humid air of the room melded with her own wetness.  Moaning for more Miranda pushed her backend up into Andy’s center drawing a sharp “Oh!” that was quickly reciprocated when hips ground into her ass, forcing her back down to the mattress, the pads of fingers still caressing and stroking everywhere but where they were most needed.

“Gods are you going to make me beg, Andy?”  Miranda didn’t ever plead in the bedroom but realized that she wouldn’t hesitate if it would mean that the aching buildup would be sated.

Andy leaned closer to her ear; “Do you want to beg Miranda?”  She languidly dragged a hot tongue down the length of a sweat-soaked spine until reaching the juncture of hips and buttocks, stopping to lick a tight spiral before tickling lightly between the now quivering mounds of flesh.  Andy stopped all movement then, awaiting Miranda’s response.

Miranda nearly sobbed at the cessation of stimuli and choked out, “Yes, I want to beg, if it means you will continue.”

Andy wanted to be clear.  “You want me to continue…here?”  She slid her tongue lower, just avoiding the sensitive puckering skin, fingers now beginning the first brushes against the fully engorged bundle of nerves still pressed into the sheets.

“Whatever you want,” she gasped out; “but I need you now, deep inside other places; please…”

The “please” propelled Andy off and back as she grasped the hips below her and jerked them up until Miranda had no choice but to kneel.

A wrenching “Oh god!” was screamed and blended with the storm’s pervasive acoustics as Andy plunged two fingers, then three as she found there was room, into the wet, trembling heat as her fingers reached around roughly pinching the aching nub before soothing it with a stroking that kept time with the increasing pace of the thrusts in and out. 

Miranda had never been passive during sex and gave as good as she got; pushing back with equal ferocity, all  pretense at not being affected by this young woman taking her so skillfully, cast away, along with most of her anxiety at the raging storm around them. 

They kept at the rhythm for what seemed an interminable amount of time until the coiling burn seemed to be almost too much. 

But Andy seemed to have a sense about those things because just as Miranda felt she could take no more and that she would need a different position to come, Andy leaned down and bit the fleshy part of her shoulder while her thumb slipped up to rub steadily at the flexing puckered opening.

A surprised yelp at both moves propelled Miranda into a head-long dive into liquid pleasure so thick she lost track of everything except for the warm, steady presence of the woman who was guiding her so brilliantly to further completion.

After two additional orgasms and several aftershocks Miranda collapsed face-first into the bed, the emotional resonance escaping as tears from her own eyes. After only seconds, as she felt Andy withdraw, she turned onto her back and stared unseeing at the ceiling as she caught her breath then dragged Andy into a fiery kiss even as she brought their sweat-soaked bodies together from breasts to toes despite the oppressive heat making it almost unbearably uncomfortable.

After several moments of both feeling as if they were sharing the same skin Miranda rolled away just enough so a hot flash wouldn’t be triggered and stared hard at the other woman.

Andy held her measure and waited, sensing the weight of the silence that stretched across the passing seconds.  She’d never had Miranda look at her in that way before, actually she’d never had anyone look at her with quite that level of openness, confusion, incredulity and…love; it brought tears to her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth-million time that day but she didn’t look away.

Miranda lay their absolutely spent, physically and emotionally.  She searched inside for words to explain both to herself and to Andréa exactly what she was feeling but found there were only three and she wondered at the hastiness of them.  Noting the gathering tears she brought her hand to a cheek still sporting the high color of emotion and physical exertion, gently caressing before leaning forward and placing a light kiss upon the lips that, together with a slightly scrunched brow quirked at least one question; although, since it was Andréa, probably more. 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more alive than I do at this moment.” 

Andy’s heart leapt at Miranda’s admission breaking free in the form of a smile as she lifted up slightly, bending her arm at the elbow and propping her head on her hand.  “I don’t think there’s a higher compliment that one person can give to another.” The tears spilled over then and she whispered; “Thank you.”

Miranda stared disbelievingly.  “Andréa it is _I_ who should be thanking _you_.  You didn’t give up and you’ve given me a chance to just let go; to not measure and judge but feel and be.  No one else has ever touched me the way you have; no one has ever let me just be myself. As you have witnessed, it’s quite the struggle…” she paused, searching for the words; “… to know the potential of who I can be in relation to another.”

She leaned in and kissed the stunned woman.  “So, thank **_you_**.” 

Miranda paused again when she pulled back, looked inward, then back up, captured by the softest most loving expression.  Deciding that nothing was to be lost by being absolutely honest she accepted the whole of everything she felt for the woman and returned the heartfelt look with one of her own.  “I love you Andréa; I love you very much.  No more fighting, no more hiding; I just hope you truly know what you’re in for; just because I love you, and am admitting that I’m in love with you doesn’t mean I’m going to change overnight or…”  she quieted, awaiting the negative repercussions, “… or very much at all.”

The last part of Miranda’s proclamation prodded Andy out of her astonishment and she laughed through yet more tears.  “Christ Miranda, if you weren’t you I don’t know what the hell I’d do with you!”

The subsequent exchange of relieved smiles was interrupted by what felt like a large wave impacting the house; sending shivers through concrete, glass, decorative objects and flesh and blood as a loud banging seemed to vibrate up through the floor.  They waited, listening for any sign that a breach of their protective bubble had occurred but were met only with the rhythmic thumping that didn’t grow worse or recede.

“What the hell was that?”  Andy shakily arose from the sweat-dampened sheets and walked uninhibitedly to the doors, trying to detect any clue.  “Damn it.  I can’t see a thing.”

Miranda joined her, opting as well to forgo clothing, the thought of covering her heated body less than appealing.  “It seems that it’s coming more from this side of the house.  Perhaps we should venture down the stairs…”

“I doubt we’ll see much more than here, but I guess we can try.”

They tentatively descended the lightly swaying staircase, comforted that the sounds of the storm were no louder on the second level than on the third, although the tone was very different due their proximity to the water.

“The waves hitting the doors still unsettle me.” Miranda watched as sea water crashed over the low concrete wall that acted as a rail surrounding the patio and sloshed against the doors, receding much like waves on the deck of a ship in rough seas. 

Andy took a moment to squeeze Miranda’s hand as she cocked her head to the side, listening.  “That noise is louder down here, whatever it is.”

“Yes, and it’s definitely coming from outside; I wonder if something is stuck under the house?”

Miranda’s question went unanswered and they stood for several moments longer, until Andy’s stomach growled in reminder that it’d been quite a long time since breakfast.  “I’m hungry.”  She grabbed a loaf of bread, and the other items needed to assemble everything then nodded her head back towards the stairs.  “Why don’t we go back upstairs, there’s some sliced turkey and cheese in the cooler up there.”

Miranda wasn’t quite sure if she’d be able to eat but nodded anyway as she _was_ hungry.  “I’ll come up in a minute; it’s my turn to use the facilities.”

“If you leave the door open…”  Andy offered as she headed towards the stairs; “it may not be as freaky for you as it was for me.”

By the time Miranda made her way back up the stairs Andy had managed to unpack everything that wasn’t in a cooler, including the bag with her camera and the bottles she’d brought up earlier.  She smiled as a now partially dressed Miranda, clad only in a white gauzy wrap-around skirt tied off at her hip glided up the stairs; a bottle of sweating white wine and two glasses in tow.

Glancing at the makeshift bar Miranda allowed a sly smile.  “I see we are thinking along the same lines; might I suggest wine first and then we’ll hit the hard stuff later?”

They had just filled both glasses and were staring hard into each other’s eyes when they realized that the relentless pounding of wind and water had ceased at just about the same time that Andy’s phone notified them of a new message.

Andy hurried over to the night stand and read the text from her father.  “Eye of storm will be reaching you soon.  Center has contracted slightly, now 30 miles across.  At speed now expect about 2 hours in eye then stronger backside.  Are you both okay?”

Andy, back to the doors, was texting a reply, worrying her lip over the “stronger” part when she felt a rush of cool air flood the room; caressing her naked, heated skin.  Turning quickly she watched as Miranda stood just past the threshold of the now open doorway, skirt and hair fluttering in the steady wind, smelling of salt and something unidentifiable, of a speed no more than anything one would experience at a normal day at the beach, as a breathy “My god” reached her ears.

Taking a large gulp of her wine Andy was about to investigate but the magnificence of Miranda as she stood highlighted by the strangely lightening sky compelled her to pick up her camera and shoot several images.  Content with her work she then strode quickly forward, enveloping the pale goddess-like vision from behind in a full body hug as they both stared in wonder at the vista before them; an endless churning expanse of water. 

They were surrounded; choppy, roiling waves, seemingly confused as to their direction, stretching as far as their eyes could see.  Andy pulled back and finished her wine in one gulp and, noting Miranda’s empty glass, took it from hands that had apparently gone slightly slack; turning back into the bedroom where she promptly refilled both, draining the bottle.

“Miranda?”

Fears that perhaps the other woman would slip back into that far-away state of earlier were laid to rest when Miranda turned and reached for the glass.  “I’m still here but it’s taking everything I have in me not to run back into that house and hide in a closet.”  Miranda frowned at her honesty and said with an inwardly turned voice as she finally looked up and met Andy’s eyes.  “I don’t know why I just told you that; but around you I don’t feel like I have to hide or pretend.”

Andy stepped closer and brushed back the wind-whipped hair, tucking it behind an ear before laying a gentle caress on the now cooled cheek.  “I’m honored then.  Maybe it’s because you know I won’t see you as weak or think less of you.” 

Andy’s focus moved beyond the steady crystal blue of Miranda’s eyes, noting the angry deep blues, greens and grays of the water.  “And just so you know; you’re not the only one thinking about the closet idea.”  She swallowed some more wine uncomfortably.  “I’m kind of freaking out here; I’ve never been fond of being so far out on water that I can’t see land. Now there’s this.”  She waved the hand with her glass out towards the ocean in a near toast.  “And it’s really fucked up.”

“Darling, I hate to break it to you but just about everything about this situation, with the exception of you, is pretty much ‘fucked up’.”

Andy snorted at the incongruous obscenity dropping from the usually so controlled woman’s mouth before she shifted uncomfortably both with the temperature change from the incredibly stuffy house and the panic that was attempting a slow crawl up her spine.

“Put some clothes on dear, I want to keep these doors open as long as possible.”

They both headed inside as Andy pulled on a pair of sweat pants, not bothering with underwear, and a soft long sleeved white blouse of which she only buttoned a couple at the bottom.  “Did you bring any other clothes up with you?”

Miranda shook her head in the negative which sent Andy to rummaging in her now opened suitcase.  “Here…” she passed over a nearly transparent lavender blouse designed to go over one of her swimsuits, “… it goes well with your lower half.”  Dark eyes trailed down the long slit in the skirt and Andy provocatively licked her lips causing a bloom of red to spread across Miranda’s face and neck.

Miranda cleared her throat and took another sip of wine.  “We should venture out a bit and see if we may take an accounting of the house; that banging noise still hasn’t stopped.”

Andy’s countenance changed at light speed and while agreeing it was necessary, she was hesitant to move beyond the threshold of the door.  Miranda looked once at her and held out her hand.  “Come, I won’t let anything happen to you.  The rail up here is solid glass block and everything seems to be intact.”

“Yes, but Miranda, how do we know for sure?”

Miranda shrugged and forced an extra measure of lightness into her tone.  “It’s still here isn’t it?”

“Fine; but don’t you dare let go of my hand!”

It was about ten feet from the door to the glass-block but it took the women about five minutes to traverse as first Andy and then Miranda had to stop and get a grip of their emotions. 

Looking down was not something either women were comfortable doing but after about a minute of both of them looking outwards Andy noted that her hand was turning white and one of Miranda’s rings felt as though it were piercing her skin.

“Ugh, hand?”

Miranda forced her body to relax but didn’t let go.  Andy looked over at Miranda meaningfully and said gently, “One of these days maybe you’ll tell me the story,” then kissed her on the cheek before pulling back with a soft smile.

Miranda felt another layer of anxiety settle over her at the thought of relaying something about which she’d never spoken but upon looking out again at the rough waves tumbling all around decided it was actually the least of all the scary things on her current list. 

“Maybe I will.” Drifted softly along the steady breeze and Andy brought a reassuring arm around Miranda’s waist.

“Well, no pressure, whenever you feel like it; and if you never do, that’s fine too.” 

Miranda met the compassionate gaze for a moment and nodded then gathered her courage and looked down.  Her eyes widened.  “I think we have the source of our noise.”

Curiosity drove Andy’s eyes to follow Miranda’s line of sight.  “Holy shit!”

The beautiful curving stairs on both sides had been ripped from the facade and were hanging on by who knows what, probably a metal thread somewhere below the riotous waters; with each successive swell they were pushed towards the house, producing the sound of their mysterious banging. 

“I’ve gotten a new appreciation for the difference between knowing something intellectually and actually understanding what it translates into in reality since all of this has begun.”  Andy murmured as she drew closer still to the woman next to her. “Sort of like what you were saying about the windows earlier.”

The Shiavone’s had told them to expect that the stairs would probably be a casualty if things got really bad; they were designed to break free so as not to create undue stress on the integrity of the structure.  “Do you think it’s a bad thing that they’re still hanging on?”

Miranda chuckled darkly.  “Oh that I were an engineer and could tell you but I would guess that when the storm rejoins us on the other side and the surge moves from a different direction that they won’t be around long.”

Adjusting to their surreal vantage point they both looked around taking in more of the damage they could see.  Chunks of the concrete wall that ringed the second floor balcony were missing as well and some of what must have been a protective layer coating the concrete flapped in the breeze but what they could see of the house itself looked promising.

“I want to take some pictures and video; are you okay here while I get my camera or…”

Miranda’s grip tightened, “It’s completely irrational, but no.  I’ll come with you and we’ll both come back out here, together.”

lXlXlXl

After about fifteen minutes of filming and photo taking – each taking turns having their picture taken with the overcast gray sprinkled with patches of blue sky in the background they stopped again to truly take in the scene around them.

“This is something not a whole lot of people can say they’ve experienced I bet.”  Andy looked up at the birds circling their house and at the dozen or so others who had apparently decided that they were harmless and had settled on the rail or any other available surface.  “Do you think these birds will get out of the eye okay?”  Andy felt a tendril of worry for their safety.

Miranda looked at the birds and then at Andréa, marveling at her gentle heart and felt a swell of affection bubble up.  She moved a couple of feet back towards where Andy had stepped closer to the doors and pulled her into a strong hug; kissing her firmly.  “You _are_ a beautiful creature, inside and out.”

Andy blushed, then reminded of her hunger by a sharp pang, tugged Miranda back into the house.  “Come on, I’ve worked up an appetite and…” a devilishly playful grin affixed to her face, “I need to be ready for round two.”

At the double-entendre, intentional or not, Miranda experienced a contrary mix of emotions; arousal and fear merging, manifesting as a shiver; then a frown created by doubt dropped a shroud on the mood. 

Andy noticed and squeezed Miranda’s hand tighter, before pulling it up and placing a kiss on its back.  Looking at the sky and noting that there were no longer patches of blue to be seen she gentled her voice; “I know it’s probably naïve of me but I really believe it’s going to be okay.  So, I have a plan.  We eat while we can still enjoy the fresh air, then between some more alcohol and hopefully lots more..” She nuzzled that spot behind Miranda’s ear. “… hot, sweaty…”, flicked her tongue out and ran it teasingly along the earlobe, “… sex…”, she nearly choked on the word and paused for a moment trying to control her rising desire, “… all we need to do is distract ourselves enough to make it through the next few hours.  But…” Andy exhaled, drawing another shiver from the unmoving woman, “… I can’t do it alone.”

Andy pulled back enough so Miranda could see the underlying pleading as she breathlessly added, “So, Miranda, it’s up to you; are you game?  Will you play with me?”


	11. Chapter 11

They had finished their cold meal about ten minutes before and were once again reveling in the refreshing sea breeze as they leaned against the open doors, each with a vodka and Pellegrino, fat green slices of lime sharing space with the smaller cubes of ice. 

“God, what I wouldn’t do for a cigarette right now,” Miranda muttered under her breath.

“You smoke?!” Andy winced at the squeak that she couldn’t quite hide.

Miranda turned her head, lifted one eyebrow, and chuckled.  “I had many vices in my less than virtuous youth, although of all of them, that was by far the most difficult to overcome.”

Andy canted her head.  “So, if one were to magically appear it wouldn’t cause a relapse now, would it?”

Miranda observed that Andréa’s eyes looked everywhere but at her and took a small sip of her drink before deciding to go easy on her.  “I suppose I could act appalled to even think that you would have an item as foul as that in your possession, but I know it’s not something in which you regularly indulge.”

Andy finally met the steady gaze that was now shading back to that sultry playfulness she was learning to appreciate on all sorts of levels.  “And how would you know that?”

“Darling, we’ve spent so much time working **_so_** closely together that I know many things about you.”

Miranda reached out, took Andy’s glass and bent down to set it and her own on the concrete of the patio floor.  Straightening, she stepped closely into Andy’s personal space, pressing the soft curves of her breasts and belly into the younger woman’s, nuzzling her neck before dragging soft lips up the sloping jawline, speaking softly and directly into her ear. 

“But if you must know…” The deliberate exhale sent a skittering of goose bumps from head to mid-spine. “It’s the way you smell.  Andréa, you have a very distinct scent.” A tongue flicked suddenly at the curve of her ear and then teeth tugged at the lobe. “Do you realize…”  The wicked tongue slid languorously down to the now racing pulse point, swirling the tip seemingly in time with the beat of Andy’s heart.

“Ohhh, Miranda.”  Tingles of energy shot up and down her spine and the space between breaths shortened with each swirl of the warm muscle and nip of sharp teeth.

“Hmm?”

“Do I realize what?”  Andy’s voice was a strangled gasp.

It took a minute for Miranda to register that Andréa had asked her a question that required an answer, as she had to right the train of her thoughts now strewn like boxcars after a derailment; she’d overestimated her ability to remain aloof while she toyed with her ex-assistant. 

“Mmm.” One final lick and suck at a tempting collarbone, which, she realized, was hard enough to leave a mark.  “You have a very unique scent, one that became especially evident after I would catch you tracing my body with your eyes.”  She leaned back and quirked an insufferably smug grin, enjoying the dawning horror widening the dark eyes and reddening the lightly tanned skin.

“Oh, yes, just like right now.  Tell me, Andy…” Her voice now a husky exhalation, Miranda dragged out the final syllable of Andy’s name.  Absently she noted that her mouth was very dry, so she licked her lips. She placed her hand flat against the skin revealed by the unbuttoned shirt fluttering in the breeze.  The soft, warm skin beneath her palm incited her to seek as much of it as possible, so she splayed her fingers and rested her hand for a moment. Feeling the shifting of muscle as Andréa squirmed lightly beneath her touch, she lazily trailed her hand downward until her unadorned fingers just breached the elastic-lined material settled low on Andréa’s hips.

“Tell me, love, if I were to continue along my current path, what exactly would I find beneath these hideous sweatpants?”

Miranda tucked her lips back behind Andy’s ear and nipped lightly, eliciting a tortured groan as the red of Andy’s embarrassment darkened to a much deeper hue and the black of her pupils subsumed all but the narrowest strip of brown.

At Miranda’s deep inhale, Andy’s stupor broke and she covered the hand abruptly, forcing it beneath the elastic and down further to her naked flesh.

Miranda moaned as the sensitive pads of her fingers were enveloped by a warm, wet heat.   The sensation was offset by the cool but still humid air that surrounded her body, billowing the light material around them both, and she nearly stumbled from the juxtaposition of sensation.  She tilted her head back and took in the kaleidoscopic gray of the sky as it wove around intermittent streaks of bluish orange sky, obscuring and revealing the reminder that far above them the sun was angling towards the horizon and that life continued on for the majority of the planet’s inhabitants with far less drama.  She shifted her fingers, coating them in the luscious wetness of Andréa’s desire as her eyes were drawn to several squawking seagulls resting uneasily upon the railing.

“Miranda.”  Andy’s voice rumbled as her grip strengthened, pushing the now lightly stroking fingers firmly against her wetness.  Miranda focused back on the woman before her and sucked in a startled breath at the near agony upon Andréa’s face.

Andy needed Miranda to understand the torment she had endured for so long.  She shook her head and tried again.  “Miranda, this...”  Another pause and a roll of her hips, grinding them harder in a bid to remind herself that this was not just another one of her fruitless fantasies.  “ ** _This_** is what you would do to me, all those hours spent riding in the car next to you, sitting in meetings, looking over the Book with you.  This is what you could sense, the heat that I would try so hard but fail to control every time.”

Miranda was close to tears at the admission, voice now a jagged hiss.  “And this is what I tried to ignore for so long.”  She grabbed Andy’s waist and spun her so her back slammed into the exterior glass of the door at the same time as she pushed two fingers upwards into that beckoning wet heat.

“Ahhh!” Andy’s scream was torn from her lips and carried away with the wind, startling the sea birds into a burst of frenetic flight; they circled and dipped around the terrace, stark white flutters blending into or outlined by shifting gray clouds. But neither woman was aware of the chaos around them, too absorbed in their own frenzy of need blazing like kerosene lit with a match.

After the initial surprise of Miranda’s ambush, Andy slid her hands up the expanse of thigh revealed as the wraparound skirt fluttered like a flag; she’d been fixated on the tantalizing display ever since Miranda, looking like some warrior goddess of ancient times, proud, strong and oh-so-fucking-tempting, had crested the top of the stairs wearing only it.  Back still to the air-cooled glass, Andy absorbed each thrust with joyful abandon even as she maintained just enough of her wits to navigate the final few inches until she too was buried in that place that was far more addictive than any drug with which she’d ever experimented.

Another protracted exclamation of pleasure escaped to the wind as she pushed in as far as she could go, then matched the thrusts in counterpoint before instinct crowded out any of her remaining rationality.

“Miranda, Miranda, Miranda.” 

Her name was like a chant and Miranda looked up through the white fall of hair once again dampened by sweat caused not by the confined air of their shelter, but by proximity to the unbelievable creature in her arms, in her body and in her heart.  What she saw caused her insides to clamp down harder on the long fingers currently working her into an upward spiral that felt as though it would reach the tops of the tallest thunderhead.

Andréa’s head tipped back, hair and blouse a riotous flurry surrounding her as, with her eyes closed, she continued to speak, then shout, then whisper Miranda’s name.  It was the single most sexually charged moment of Miranda’s life and she committed it to her memory as she returned her lips to the delicate curve of ear and demanded in a firm whisper, “Come for me, Andréa. You must come for me now.”  The normally imperious voice cracked almost as if broken, and the fingers inside of her paused momentarily as Andy’s body trembled, then shook.  It only took a moment, and even as Andréa continued to quake with pleasure, releasing a protracted sigh, Miranda thanked every deity both identified and unidentified when the stroking within her own needy body resumed, increasing in depth and intent.  Andréa was not going to tease.

Miranda pushed in closer, nearly resting her head on Andy’s shoulder, her mouth exhaling a staccato of urgent instruction barely heard over the wind. “Fuck me, that’s right, Andy, you fuck me so well; you know just where to touch me, how to set me on fire.” 

The gush of whispered profanity and wetness sparked another set of cascading shivers through Andy’s body and her inner walls contracted yet again around fingers that had curled into just the right place, driving her to extract every last bit of pleasure possible from the woman in her arms.

Miranda was surrounded by lean flexing muscles and soft womanly curves, drawn deeper into the dance that too soon, yet not nearly soon enough, set her own release free to travel on the wind with an uninhibited scream. “Ah, yes, yes, God, **_yes_**!”

Miranda arched backwards, nearly stumbling, the sound of a skittering object, glass shattering and the flapping of wings accompanying her cries as Andy, not nearly satisfied, bent forward and latched onto a stiffened nipple. Her long dark hair whipped around her head in the increasing wind, creating feather-like caresses across Miranda’s nearly naked chest.

The backward momentum had caused Miranda’s fingers to slide back out to daylight and she grasped Andy’s upper arm, pulling herself nearly upright.  A soft, wet popping sound as Miranda’s nipple was released, shot a shiver down her spine and Andy looked up with confused dark eyes as if she were unaware of her surroundings.  Miranda brought her still wet fingers up to Andy’s face, where she dragged a finger along the jawline; upon reaching the full lips that were slightly open due to Andy’s somewhat labored breathing, she painted them with her own essence before diving in for a bruising kiss.

Andy felt like she was in a dream world, but the ferocity of Miranda’s kiss pulled her back into clarity, focus sharp upon the woman surrounding her in scent, touch and motion.  She responded by drawing her in even tighter, rubbing fiercely again at that spot that made Miranda come completely undone in her arms. 

“I will never get tired of this, Miranda; do you hear me?” She whispered fiercely the promise while she increased the pressure, rocking their bodies back and forth Andy pulled back enough to see the incredible blue of Miranda’s eyes, set even more ablaze than normal by the darkening sky. “I love you so, so much.”  Her words were nearly broken as a bubble of feeling sparked by the raw openness of Miranda’s expression, roughened her voice.  “I will always love you.”  She’d nearly stilled the movement of both their bodies, mesmerized by the clear display of hope that lit briefly in Miranda’s eyes before she looked down.

“No, please, look at me.” 

Miranda could no more deny the request than not breathe in the humid sea air, and she looked back up.

“I want to watch your face again as I make you scream.”  Andy felt the walls around her fingers contract strongly and it sent another wave of blind lust crashing over her tenderness spurring a long slow thrusting that quickly built up speed.  Feeling what she was coming to know was a sign that Miranda was close, Andy pinned the disheveled woman with a raspy, “Now, Miranda,” that firmed into a command. “Come for me.  _Please._ ”

Miranda could not discern which entreaty set her off, the smoky rumble of her name, the firm direction or the pleading gasp that caused everything inside to quiver; whatever it was, it had her once again vocalizing her release in an uncharacteristically loud manner.

Andy rode out the shockwaves of Miranda’s climax as she absorbed the weight of the now apparently boneless woman who was muttering incoherently into Andy’s sweaty chest.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you go.”  Andy, knowing it for truth both at that moment and for as long as both of them were still alive, withdrew from Miranda’s center and encircled her in an embrace designed to allow as much skin contact as possible.

After several minutes had passed, Andy slowly took in their surroundings. The wind seemed like it was shifting and a feeling of edginess raised the hairs at the back of her neck.  Looking toward the ocean, she found herself the object of the pointed stares of several white-headed birds; she couldn’t help but chuckle, which disturbed the woman still enveloped in her arms. 

“Miranda, hey.”

The mussed silver head tipped back to place a gentle kiss on her chin, causing Andy’s prior humor to blossom into a soft laugh and a full-blown smile. “Mmm, welcome back.”

Miranda smiled without reservation and tightened her arms around Andy’s waist.  “Oh, thank you, darling. And thank you for such a wonderful send off.”

Basking in the warmth of that oh-so-elusive smile and the playful words, Andy exaggeratedly waggled her eyebrows.  “Anytime, beautiful, anytime at all.”

They stood for several more seconds until they both shivered as awareness of their situation returned along with the smell of something unidentifiable carried on the shifting winds. Andy recalled the summer thunderstorms of her youth, the ion-charged air that foretold imminent atmospheric violence.

By unspoken agreement they decided to head back in.

Miranda bent to pick up their drinks, but they were no longer at her feet.  “I swear I set them right here…”  She looked at the floor around them, finally spotting the broken glass resting against the glass block nearest them.

Andy released a light laugh. “So that’s what that noise was…” 

Miranda looked down and regarded their bare feet. “I suppose I should be relieved it was far enough away not to have created a problem. That would have been...”

“Unfortunate.”

“Inconvenient.”

Their laughter mingled and created a harmony that touched Miranda somewhere inside. She grabbed Andy’s hand, tugging her back into a hug.  She could not explain to herself why the sudden need for all of the touching as she’d never before been one for it, but found absolutely no will to stop.

Andy rested her forehead on Miranda’s for a moment, relishing the closeness.  Never would she ever have dreamt that the complex woman would be so tactile; it was a pleasant surprise and one she vowed to nurture. 

Soon, though, they were drawn apart by a burst of fluttering activity as, en masse, their winged visitors departed, moving east without hesitation.

“That’s our cue, I suppose.”  Miranda watched as her pronouncement was met with a resigned frown. 

“Yeah, just when I had almost managed to forget…”  Andy didn’t finish her sentence and instead turned and pulled on Miranda’s hand, drawing her along with her.

lXlXlXl

It wasn’t ten minutes later that, as quickly as the wicked pounding of nature had stopped when they had entered the eye, it began again.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Miranda gazed out. She was nearly too exhausted to be frightened.  Nearly.  She looked up as Andy moved to the top of the stairs, then peered down towards the second level, holding on to the rail tightly.  “This seems so much worse.”

Andy, noting the drifting words and attention as well as the pinched features, decided to intervene before Miranda withdrew once again.

“Come on, let’s go downstairs for a few. I want to look at the wind speed.”  She walked back across the room and, upon reaching the bed, held out her hand, hoping Miranda would respond on her own.

When Miranda failed to move, Andy tried again, hoping to appeal to any protectiveness that Miranda might feel towards her. “I also really have to use the bathroom and I’d rather not be alone down there.”  Though she was trying to manipulate Miranda into staying in touch with her surroundings, Andy didn’t have to fake the slight wavering of her voice.

Miranda looked up at the still outstretched hand and nodded; she just couldn’t seem to help these moments when all she wanted to do was hide. Andréa’s hand was nearly too warm in her own as the heat in the room, made more noticeable due to the recollection of the cool air left behind only twenty minutes before, was once again starting to build.

Allowing herself to be pulled from her seat, Miranda shivered as the swaying of the house intensified.  “I’m sorry, Andréa.”  She stood rooted in position, tightly clasping the hand held within her own.

Andy turned and stepped closer, unsure if she’d heard the quietly spoken words correctly.  “Did you say you were sorry?”

Miranda merely nodded.

“Why?”

“Because I keep…” She let out an exasperated puff of air and searched through her myriad emotions for the reason she was so unable to cope effectively with their situation.  “I don’t mean to…” Another false start. 

Andy’s body was now aligned closely with Miranda’s and she leaned in, trying to understand. “I’m not able to hear you. What were you saying?”

Internally Miranda sneered at her weakness and the attitude leeched, unbidden, out beyond her mental walls.

“Really, Andréa, is this The _Inquisition_?”  Miranda pulled her hand away, took a step back and straightened her spine.  “I don’t need you hovering over me every second of every minute.  And really, I don’t know why I should even **_be_** apologizing.”

Andy tried not to be hurt by the sudden appearance of The Dragon, but it, combined with the closeness they’d shared and her heightened anxiety due to the storm’s ferocity, caused her to flinch and her eyes to water.  _God damn it, you are not going to cry!_

Intent upon heading down the stairs unaccompanied, Andy moved away and bit off a terse, “Fine.  Whatever.” Just as she was about to take the first step she spun around and took a few paces back. “You know what?”  She raised her voice slightly. “It’s **_not_** fine!  You don’t get to do this.”  Even though her words were firm, the tears were still pushing at the edges of her lashes and her lower lip trembled slightly.  “It’s perfectly fine that you’re freaking out; **_I’m fucking freaking out!_** ” 

That came out a bit louder than Miranda believed Andréa had intended and she watched in fascination as a look of consternation crossed the young woman’s face. 

Andy attempted to regain her control, chagrined that she had raised her voice. Just as Miranda should not have lashed out at her, she shouldn’t have expressed her frustration by yelling at the infuriating woman.  Andy looked skyward and mumbled, “Fuck.”

Andy’s explosive outburst and subsequent discomfort brought Miranda back far enough to realize she had acted poorly and she forced down the desire to withdraw further.  This would not do.

“Andréa, I **_am_** sorry; that was uncalled for.”  Miranda paused and met Andréa’s bruised expression. _Bloody hell, I just can’t help myself, can I?_   “Andréa…”  She shook her head, suddenly feeling very old and unworthy, sullied by every inch of her sharp-edged reputation.  “You know who I am. Remember, I warned you, it’s not just going to go away overnight, or ever.  Completely.”  She reached up and across the space between them and stroked Andréa’s soft cheek, trying to convey her sincerity.  “It’s not an excuse, I will try. I just will not always be successful.  And right now, given everything, it’s very difficult not to lash out.  I absolutely abhor the way I’m feeling right now.”  Her voice rose as she hit the final few words, sounding nearly distraught even to her own ears.  After a moment of silence during which they both looked at each other, Miranda closed the last few inches separating them and wrapped Andy in a hug.

Not wanting to continue, but feeling like it was necessary if she wanted to have any hope of pursuing something beyond the immediate with Andréa, she burrowed into a neck that smelled of the ocean, sweat and something primal that nearly derailed her focus.  In a near whisper she elaborated, “You know how I am about control; there’s only been one other situation in my life in which I’ve ever been subjected to the fates like this.  I was a child then…”  Her voice trailed off and she cringed as she realized what she had said. Needing to deflect a new round of panic, Miranda unconsciously opened her mouth and bit lightly at the muscle that ran the length of Andy’s shoulder to her neck, not aware of the action until she felt Andréa tremble.  Refocusing yet again, she leaned back and valiantly connected with Andréa’s questioning gaze, willing her to understand.

Andy felt what had to have been teeth on her neck and pondered the oddity of the action, but immediately forgot about it when she met the troubled gunmetal blue eyes staring with the intensity of a lance.  She internally snorted. Only Miranda could make the delivery of what she would see as a truly sincere apology feel as though it were a gauntlet being thrown at her feet.  Nevertheless, she understood and all of the anger dissipated.  She brushed back the silver strands that partially covered Miranda’s left eye, then placed a tender kiss on her forehead.  “Okay, I forgive you.”

Noting the confusion in the steady blue gaze, Andy laughed gently.  “What?”

“That’s it? No need to think about it? No need to let me stew in it? No need to make me jump through a dozen hoops or listen to a litany of my shortcomings?” Miranda’s voice edged higher for a moment and her brow crinkled, but the intensity of her stare was not diminished.

Momentarily forgetting the chaos and danger raging around them, Andy’s amusement grew and the laugh she released this time packed a bit more merriment.  “Miranda, I hate to be one to say anything negative about your past lovers, but I’ve gotta say, you’ve obviously been involved with the wrong people!”

Miranda shoved aside the prickle of irritation in favor of acceptance. She rolled her eyes, finally allowing herself and her companion a respite from her unwavering gaze and oh-so-serious countenance.  “As much as I feel like I should take offense, I can’t; I’m beginning to see you’re absolutely right.”  She placed a quick kiss on the reddening cheek and settled back into the comforting embrace.

After a few moments they pulled away from one another and this time, it was Miranda who extended her hand.

“Come on. I believe you needed me to ride shotgun?”

Enchanted, Andy stared at the arched eyebrow and slight smile.  “Why yes, madam, I would be delighted if you were to accompany me.”  Giggling, she executed a slight bow, then reached out and intertwined their fingers.  “I hope you don’t mind if I lead.”

lXlXlXl

The first thing they noticed when they entered the kitchen area was that the waves were no longer pounding straight towards the doors; rather about two feet of water was swirling around on the patio, being fed by foamy tendrils that appeared somewhere from the right.

“Sort of like looking in an aquarium,” Andy remarked as she noted the semi-opaque water in front of the glass. 

Miranda shivered but was relieved to see that since the doors were no longer facing the full brunt of the wind, their eerie movement was considerably lessened; still, she headed into the interior intent on using the facilities.  “I’ll be right back.”

Andy trailed behind her and then continued on into the back bedroom they’d used as their vantage point earlier.  The windows on this side were standard in size and she fidgeted as she watched their movement.

Deciding that Miranda had had enough time to finish, she felt her discomfort bubble up and she turned swiftly, intending to get far away from the frightening display only to be stopped in her tracks by a tremendous crashing sound behind her.  A loud shriek, followed by an “Oh my god!” escaped her as she stared uncomprehendingly at the window furthest from where she stood.

XlXlXlX

Miranda had just slathered her hands in sanitizer when she bolted from the bathroom at Andréa’s cry of distress.  She turned down the hall, heart racing, calling out for Andréa. She was met with silence.  Entering the room in a near panic and expecting the worst, she noted that Andy was standing only a few feet from the door and staring at the far wall. 

“Andréa, are you all right?” There was still no answer and Miranda turned the immobile woman to face her, searching for any injury.  Finding nothing visibly wrong, she tried again.  “What? What’s wrong?”  She searched the dark eyes and watched as Andy swallowed visibly.

Andy couldn’t get her breath nor could she get her tongue to work. To top it all off, her hands were shaking.  “The, the, uh…”  She shook her head and took a deep breath, knowing that they needed to act, and that falling apart wasn’t going to help.

Miranda placed her hand on Andy’s back and began to rub soothing circles.  After an interminably long string of seconds, the breathing calmed and with it Miranda’s worry.

“The window…” Andy turned back to the outer wall and pointed.

The room had three windows that were cut into the curvature of the wall, all north-facing.  All three were vibrating madly, but it was the window on the left that was the cause of Andy’s panic as it was now a spider web of cracks that grew in length, radiating outwards, with each successive pulsing cycle.

Miranda gasped as the full scope of their situation sank in. If the window should fail, this level was close enough to the pounding waves that water – not to mention the wind – would be able to enter.  She feared the wind could tear their sanctuary apart.  Her mind scrambled to find a solution.

“Andy!” Eyes that indicated understanding of the consequences met her own, still skirting the edge of panic.  Miranda hardened her voice and summoned The Dragon once again.  “I need you, Andréa. You must focus.  We need to do something before that window fails.”  She did not relent in her stare, willing Andy to pull it together.

Andy scrabbled for any scrap of control she could muster and found it in the steely demand for action. She looked back at the window and tentatively approached it. This time, instead of seeing it as harbinger of their doom, she looked critically at its structure.  Something about the ornamentation surrounding the cutouts in the dome into which the windows were set, struck her as odd and she examined them more closely.  Fingertips ran along a three inch wide ridge that ran unbroken around the bottom and sides of the window well and she realized that it wasn’t merely a cosmetic feature; instead, it looked as though it… “Miranda!”  Andy turned and hurried back over to the startled woman’s side. “Did the Shiavone’s say anything about covers for these windows?”

Miranda searched her memory of their conversation and email but came up with nothing.  Her mind racing, she bit out a frustrated, “No.” But something surfaced in her memory. _What was it?! Ah, yes._ “There were metal squares that I came across when we were preparing the house.”  Miranda struggled to focus upon the exact location she’d come across the metal plates resting side-by-side in darkened corner, which had sparked barely a moment’s thought as to their purpose.  She ran her hand through her hair and shook her head.

“Damn it.  I looked through so many nooks and crannies that I can’t remember where, but I believe what I saw was the exact size to fit over that window…” She pursed her lips.

Andy nodded, looking at a spot far away from their current location, remembering.  She suddenly brightened and grabbed Miranda’s arm.  “Come on! I remember!”

She led them to the central supply pantry and continued to a door in the far back.  “Here, I think.”  The relief was palpable as they worked at tugging one of the heavy pieces out far enough so they could carry it.

“Be careful,” Miranda cautioned, “the edges are just sharp enough to cut.” 

Gingerly they made their way back to the room, both very mindful that they needed to move as quickly as possible as the wind was not abating and the window looked like it was about to fail at any moment.  They tried to lift it to settle it into the inset track, but it was too high.

“Shit!” Andy looked for a chair, but instead spied the bed.  “Let’s push the bed over. We can both stand on it, then push the plate flush to the wall. Hopefully it’ll just slide into place.”  She had her doubts, though; it looked like it was going to be a tight fit.

Her fears were warranted. They managed to get the piece about three quarters of the way down before it simply stopped.  Andy and Miranda both tried to get as much leverage as possible, but the metal was only a quarter of an inch thick and their fingers kept sliding off.  After one particularly strong attempt, Miranda’s left hand slipped and a sharp sting caused her to jump back.

“Oh!” Both women looked down at the hand Andy had automatically cradled in her own, shocked to see blood. 

“Miranda!” Andy tried to get a better look, but Miranda pulled her hand back and shook her head. 

“Not yet.  This is the least of our worries; it’s only a small cut.  We need to get this damn thing to cover this window!”

Andy nodded her head and jumped down from the bed. As she ran out of the room she tossed over her shoulder, “I’m going to get a hammer!”

Miranda looked at the now empty doorway and then back at the metal plate, the awkwardness of the angle and the inset track.  _Hammer?!  How the hell are we going to hit that pitifully small surface with a fucking hammer!?_ She stared at her hand and hissed at the sting, examining the wound thatwas feeding a slow trickle of blood across her hand.  _I need to put something on this so I don’t bleed over everything._   She grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and began to apply pressure.

The blood was still running, but at least now it was a considerably slowed. She looked up as Andy came running, nearly breathless, back into the room, one hand holding a hammer and the other a large wood chisel.  She watched with a growing smile as Andy solved the problem of actually hitting the edge of the metal by resting the chisel on top and striking it instead.   _I knew there was a reason I’ve kept her as my assistant so long._  The smile faded as she remembered that Andréa no longer worked for her. Granted she’d gained so much more, but… She sighed and refocused on the window, which was now nearly completely covered. 

It was at that moment that the severely stressed pane of glass finally gave up its fight and burst inward, fragments shooting through the small gap and into the room accompanied by a cacophony of howling wind and stinging water.

Andy startled so badly she dropped the tools and fell back on the bed, landing in an undignified heap on her ass.


	12. Chapter 12

If circumstances were different it may even have been funny but as the roar of the wind screamed into their shelter, channeled through the one inch gap between the window sill and the cover and accompanied by a scouring of needle-like sea spray and rain, amusement at Andréa’s disheveled form was miles away. 

Andy shook her head and scooted back in a rapid crab-crawl a bit farther away from the one inch opening, gauging the feasibility of getting the panel further into the track.

“No!” Shrill and sharp Miranda’s shout split the air over the cacophony of the storm.  Andy stopped and turned, dumbfounded by the emotion on the usually reserved woman’s face.  Granted she’d seen many new facets of her personality since this ordeal began but the absolute terror on Miranda’s face did what her directive could not; stop her in her tracks.

“Don’t you dare get near that!”

“But Miranda!” Andy yelled back as loud as she could, as normal speech was impossible.

“I said NO!”

Andy shook her head and retreated, sliding off the bed; it was a lost cause anyway as there was no way she’d be able to get a good angle on it now especially with the shattered crumbs of glass that were still bound by the protective film whipping around like a sort of manic cat tail.  She imagined how it would feel if that were to connect with her body and could even feel the sting.

“Andréa, you’re bleeding!” Miranda was now standing next to her having had to retreat to the very back of the room, as far away from the narrow blast of wind and water as possible, before getting to where Andy had plopped down on the floor next to the door, back leaning against the wall.

“Let me see.”  Miranda knelt then murmured in Andy’s ear as her eyes took in the blood oozing from both shins.

Andy hissed as the adrenalin that had flooded her body when the window broke began to ebb, leaving her well aware of the pain which seemed to be worse in her left leg. “I, I’m okay.”  Her voice was a near shout.  “We need to do something!”

Both women looked at the gathering water on the floor that soaked the area rugs and at the wall directly opposite the window which was bearing the brunt of the abuse.

“Come on.” Miranda tugged at Andy’s arm and pulled her up, leading her by hand out of the room and pulling the heavy door closed behind them, immediately dampening the worst of the noise.  Lowering her voice she led Andy down the hall. “We need to clean those cuts and,” she paused, shaking her hand at the throbbing in her index finger. “mine as well.”

“I know! But the window!” Andy was near tears.

Miranda set her jaw, the constant stress of the past twenty-four odd hours leaving her feeling drained in a way she’d not experienced, the unfamiliarity leaving her oddly calm about their situation.  “There’s nothing we can do about it now; the door’s closed, there’s no roof that’s going to rip off and we’ll deal with the water.  This can’t last forever.”  The last was half mumbled, meant to reassure herself as well as Andréa.

“Dammit!”  Andy slapped her hand against the kitchen counter and stared out at the water swirling on the porch.  Objects caught in the maelstrom periodically banged against the doors making her shudder with every hit; as if pleading with the heavens, “How much longer are we going to have to deal with this?”

Unaware that Andy was being mostly rhetorical and preoccupied with the relentless circumstances Miranda responded, “It’s only been a half hour since we left the eye.  I can’t imagine it will be that much longer before it starts to…”

“Miranda.”  Andy shook her head and interrupted, “it took several hours to get this bad.  Yeah, the worst of the winds will probably ease soon but…”

“Andréa please!  Stop.  Just stop! It doesn’t matter.”  Feeling weary to her bones Miranda sighed, ran her uninjured hand through her hair and paused in her search in the cupboards for a first aid kit, canting her head so her unwavering stare met Andy’s eyes.  “Like you I am frustrated and well over dealing with this storm. There’s nothing we can do so we **_are_** going to clean out these cuts, go upstairs, and I’m going to pour us each a couple of fingers full of scotch and we’re go to take our minds off of this however we are able.  Okay?” 

Miranda continued to look intently as Andy willed her emotions to settle. Temporarily soothed by Miranda’s pragmatic approach and the steel strength of her voice Andy took a moment to consider the evolving dynamic of their relationship. Yes, Miranda had had just ordered her about but it was different.  As her boss Miranda’s demands were always steeped in a sense of mystery; the depth of information given never detailed, for _The_ Miranda Priestly hoarded clues as a sultan would their precious gems. Delivered in that bland tone, deceptively displaying disinterest, forced Andy to develop a near psychic intuition in order to deliver successfully and to never disappoint. 

Now, Miranda was revealing so much more with every conversation, leaving clues at nearly every turn.  To Andy this spoke of trust and it allowed Andy to feel more like her normal self than she had since attempting to start that blasted SUV. But it also spoke of worry, and, as they continued the silent contemplation of one another, Andy could see beyond Miranda’s obvious concern for their predicament to something surprising; concern for her wellbeing.

But Andy wasn’t sure she wanted Miranda to see just how fragile she could be, aware that some of her actions in the past twenty-four some odd hours already let too much slip through. She needed to regroup, if only a little bit so Andy fell back on what she always did best as Miranda’s assistant; help. In this case by injecting a little humor. Shoving her discomfort aside she willed a lilting tease to her voice and forced a sly grin. “And what if I don’t actually like scotch?” 

Miranda was aware of an entire conversation playing out before her although she was hard-pressed to interpret it despite detecting a shift in Andréa’s tone; that didn’t mean she was ready to let go of her concern for the complicated woman before her. In fact it piqued her further as she was beginning to understand that Andréa was so very good at deflection.

Miranda turned away and resolved to continue a degree of vigilance; of course she wouldn’t let Andréa know that she was watching.

“Well there’s plenty of vodka, drink that, I don’t care.” Miranda tossed over her shoulder as she entered the pantry, flashlight in hand, coming out seconds later with a large, soft-sided blue bag with a red cross on the top. She patted the counter.

“Hop up here will you? Swing your legs up so I can see.” Evening was creeping upon them but the storm-darkened sky meant that much less light entered the vast panes of glass making it seem much later than the quarter of seven that Miranda estimated the time to be.

Andy shifted into position and gripped the edge of the counter with her right hand; her left leg was now throbbing and as the stifling heat and humidity settled over her like a thick wet blanket she swallowed convulsively as her head swam with dizziness. 

Miranda saw the sway and stepped closer to the counter her body positioned so that Andy wouldn’t fall.  The dim light made it difficult to see and she flipped the flashlight back on and gave it to Andy to hold. “Here, shine it on your legs.” She watched Andréa closely for a moment while she fumbled for the flashlight. “How are you with blood?”

“Uh, not so good anymore…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to force her eyes away from the wound.

“Don’t look then, okay?” Miranda gentled her voice and caressed Andy’s arm for a moment then bent closer to her legs to get a better look.

Andy nodded and swallowed hard. Her stomach was churning as once again images from her past collided with the tumult of her present. The persistent wind, that solid backdrop of sound, was now so much closer, due to the fractured window which had allowed the storm into their safe bubble and drove home the reality of their situation. She inhaled deeply, catching Miranda’s scent then noted several seconds later that her jaw had relaxed as did the clenching of her hands.  She mused that Miranda had always had this ability to calm her even when she was only her assistant. 

“H,h,how is it?” Andy was tempted to look but she knew she’d probably just end up throwing up or passing out.

“Hmmm. Those shards were like a whip and striped you fairly well.” Miranda didn’t believe in prevarication, she wasn’t going to be too graphic but she didn’t want Andréa to think it was worse than it was either.  “There’s some small pieces embedded… hmmm, it’s not too bad but I’m going to need to pull them out.”

“Miranda?  Uh, I don’t know…” Tears were forming and beginning to fall and Andy’s hands balled back into tight fists; the wound stung but that wasn’t the biggest problem, she’d endured so much worse that this was like a mosquito bite. No, this pain was from inside, the intensity of which threatened her grasp of the present. “Can we just leave them?”

Miranda looked up and took in the quivering lower lip and the tears now breaching the corners of Andy’s eyes and felt her heart ache. “Darling, I’ll be as quick as possible; we can’t leave them.”

She turned back to the first aid kit and found a pair of tweezers which she sterilized with an alcohol wipe, the sharp odor of which heightened her focus on the task although it could have been some of the alcohol seeping into her own wound. “Just hold the light closer and as steady as possible, alright?”

A sniffle was Andy’s only reply and minutes passed in silence as Miranda, slowed by the slice on her left index finger, pulled every piece she could find from the wound. Finally she stood and grabbed a bottle of distilled water that she’d found under the sink when she was looking for the first aid kit. Positioning Andy’s leg over the small bar sink inset in the counter she poured the water over the wound, hoping to flush any remaining glass she may have missed, then  dried it with some sterile gauze and applied an antibacterial ointment to the whole thing.

Andy hissed at the slight sting of the ointment but remained in place.

“I don’t think it’s deep enough to require stitches, but this one place, I don’t know…” She took the flashlight back and reexamined the first aid kit. “Ah, here.” She applied two steri-strips to the deepest part of the gash and then wrapped both shins in gauze. 

“Okay, there. We’ll keep checking it for infection but it will have to do.”

Andy shrugged and sniffed again, really needing to find a tissue. “What’s one more scar, right?”

Miranda’s gaze flicked quickly to Andréa’s but found the younger woman wouldn’t meet her eyes. She’d felt the scar on Andy’s hip but hadn’t looked closely at it since every time she was in a position to explore Andy’s body her attention had been considerably focused elsewhere. “Andréa, it’s only a couple of inches long in that area; once we’re out of here you’ll see a doctor and they will be able to…”

“It doesn’t matter really.” Andy finally looked up and met her eyes.  “It’s just… most of my scars are in places that can be easily hidden.”

“Darling.” Miranda’s heart clenched at the dejection in Andréa’s tone. “You’re right; it doesn’t matter because you are beautiful just as you are.”

Andy snorted quietly. “This from the woman who insists on visual perfection in every photo that appears in her magazine.”

Miranda’s brow knitted slightly and she bit back her first response which was defensive and not very nice. _She’s upset Miranda, don’t add to it._ Yes, but that is art, a different reflection of reality. This is… **_you_** , and you are beautiful because of who you are and I love you **_as_** you are. The fact that you bear those scars means that you survived and that is all I could ask. You wouldn’t be here with me today otherwise.” She leveled her most intimidating stare and murmured a quiet, “That’s all.”

lXlXlXlXl

Andy pondered that look and the words, astounded by how they took on an entirely new meaning when used not as a weapon to wound but to defend. _Her_. Tears now spilling over she swung her bandaged legs over the counter. Miranda had stepped back and was now attempting to juggle the flashlight and a cleanser so she could tend to her own wound. The awkward attempt distracted Andy from the heavy emotion.

After watching for a few additional seconds Andy rolled her eyes and sniffled. “Woman, you are so stubborn.  Let me help, hold the flashlight and I’ll do the rest.”

Andy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then rinsed the cut and inspected it. “I think we both got incredibly lucky.” She applied an antibacterial salve then finished wrapping the soft material of an adhesive bandage around the wound. “It doesn’t need stitches but I bet it stings.”

Miranda uttered a non-committal “Hmm.” She was pleased to see that Andréa’s focus had shifted away from the sadness and memories; she more than perhaps anyone, understood that those great events that comprise one’s life never really go away and that the complexity, when accepted, could either be a source of power or, when denied, of suffering and self-doubt.  At that moment she added an additional notation to her internal task list; to offer whatever support she could so that Andréa would continue to build her power. If that meant that The Dragon would have to make a periodic appearance, then so be it.

They stood in the semi-darkness for several moments, Miranda’s hand once again cradled within Andy’s, each enjoying the closeness until something brushing against their bare feet made them both look down. A thin layer of water was inching across the floor, its source the hallway leading to Nigel’s former room and the broken window.

“Well damn.” Miranda pursed her lips and looked back up towards the other woman, gauging her reaction but Andy’s eyes were occupied, looking at the walls and the tile that extended up the wall forming a 6” baseboard.

“Huh, I think I get the tile baseboard now, I thought it was kinda ugly and couldn’t figure out why they’d do it.”

Miranda nodded and looked at their surroundings with an eye to the floor, every appliance was set up off the ground by at least six inches. She nodded in approval. “They’ve thought of just about everything, I am really impressed with level of forethought and insight that has gone into this place.”

Andy connected the dots and let herself relax. “If they accounted for water coming in, that must mean it’s not going to somehow make the house weaker, right?” 

“I choose to believe that very thing. But…” Miranda looked towards the furniture and area rugs in the living area, “that doesn’t mean that things aren’t going to be ruined.”

By unspoken agreement the two women took the mostly dried towels used the night before to capture the mess they’d made when bringing in the furniture and tossed them across the furthest reaches of the water. 

“I think we should block the door to the room.” Miranda took the flashlight and headed back into the pantry to find something to use.

Andy followed, not certain they could entirely stop the water’s progression. “Maybe, just in case, we should move the furniture and rugs?  The least we can do is to minimize the damage any way possible.”

It took about a half hour of working by the light of two different battery-powered lanterns before they were able to fashion a passable barrier out of an industrial roll of plastic food wrap and more towels. They had then put the barstools in the kitchen on the counter, pushed the furniture in the main living space to the farthest regions away from the hallway and rolled up the area rugs, setting them atop the coffee table. They were putting aside the sponge mops they’d found after having cleaned what they could from the floor when Andy’s eyes widened and she went over to the weather radio, checking the time, nearly eight-twenty.

“We should check in with my folks, they’re probably worried that they haven’t heard from us.” Andy headed up the stairs as Miranda “Hmmmed” in a distracted manner.

Left alone for a few moments Miranda leaned against the countertop and once again took in the violent tumult outside the windows, imagining how news of any relationship beyond the professional would be received by the elder Sachs’. After all, how would she feel if it were one of her daughters bringing home anyone, man or woman, nearly twice their age? She rolled her eyes and decided not to think about it. The impossibility of a relationship with Andréa actually working was still a factor with which to contend, no matter how badly she wanted it.

Andy walked somewhat stiffly back into the kitchen, noting that Miranda had not moved in the few minutes she was gone. 

“Hey,” Andy stood beside Miranda and followed her line of sight, nothing had changed, except for further dimming of the outside world.

“Hmm?”

Miranda’s distracted acknowledgement eased Andy’s mind a bit. She was worried about how Miranda would drift off when the stress of their situation became too much; sure, she did it herself but this was Miranda, it flew in the face of everything she knew about her. _But…_ That was the key she guessed, _what she knew_ , because despite the fact that Miranda had revealed so much already, the complex woman had more layers than baklava.

Andy snickered silently, _baklava… food_ , her subconscious reminding her that she was hungry again. But she ignored it, returning to her contemplation of the woman beside her who still seemed lost in her own thoughts. Andy didn’t expect full disclosure but she did wonder whether or not it would do Miranda good to talk about whatever it was that had happened to her as a child that was so traumatic.

_Oh hell no Sachs, you are not going to play therapist again._ Andy shrugged at the internal monologue in a half-hearted agreement; after all, simply asking again wouldn’t be pushing, would it? A large wave crashing over the rail from the far right of the patio brought both women back to the present. 

Miranda turned to look at Andréa who had remained quietly at her side, obviously lost in her own thoughts.  She marveled that it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence between them but then they’d been able to be silent in each other’s company for many months now, whether immersed in work or simply relaxing as they moved from one appointment to another in the town car.  She found that this relieved of yet another fear regarding a relationship with Andréa once all of this was over.

_Would they really be able to make a serious go of it?_ That they were able to enjoy silences between them was as important as finding out that Andréa was an interesting person with a wide variety of interests possessing a willingness to explore that which she didn’t already know about. Andréa was also willing to go toe to toe with Miranda, whether it be to ensure that she wasn’t trampled upon by Miranda’s own “strong” personality or fervently arguing her own point of view on those things she held dear.

But family, family was a different matter altogether. Andy’s parents, her daughters.

So despite her resolve only minutes before to not contemplate it Miranda found she couldn’t push it away.  Gods what would her children feel about their mother deciding to take up with a woman who could easily be her daughter as well?  She worried her lip for a moment then stopped abruptly, the habit of being _The_ Miranda Priestly who never indulged in nervous gestures, stepping in to attempt a restoration of her tattered reserve. But as she ran a hand through the now thoroughly sweat-dampened hair at the back of her neck she once again acknowledged that that persona really wasn’t in control here; nor was she necessarily welcome.

Perhaps she needed to try something new and just ask Andréa about her family and how she thinks they’d take them being together. She already knew that her gender wouldn’t matter, no, it was _The Devil_ that could be a deal-breaker. Hell, if it were one of her girls and all she knew of her was the façade, she’d probably be plotting a way to make _herself_ go away.

Andréa’s gentle touch on her forearm and a light kiss to her lips pulled her from her contemplation. Miranda could see a myriad of emotions within the dark eyes, fear and discomfort tensed the skin around them while love radiated outwards, directed solely at her.

Miranda’s eyes held the sheen of tears and she smiled tremulously before leaning in and bestowing a searing kiss that took both of their breaths away.

“Wow.  I don’t know where that came from but any time you want to repeat it…” 

Andréa’s voice was low, but Miranda could still hear it in spite of the circumstances. She was gratified to see the full lips pulling back into a small smile and a slight lessening of the tension could be felt in the muscles in her upper arm which Miranda had unconsciously began lightly running her hand over. 

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.” Andy stepped back and turned towards the counter, grabbing the first aid kit and the distilled water while Miranda filled the small cooler they’d brought down with fresh ice from the refrigerator. It wasn’t quite as solid as it was when it came out of the ice maker but they’d packed the refrigerator drawer well so it was sufficient.

When they reached the upper level both were relieved that there was a measure of peace, enough distance muting the persistent roar of the storm.

They set their burdens down and Andy plopped on the bed with an impish smile, limbs askew, the tank top, shorts and bandages barely covering an endless expanse of a glorious form.  “Now, you’d mentioned something about a drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one more chapter written that needs one more pass before I feel comfortable posting. Look for it hopefully later today.


	13. Chapter 13

Miranda put a generous portion of ice in both glasses but frowned when she thought about mixing the scotch with it; a fairly decent label, it would be a crime to have it be diluted before she’d even get the pleasure of more than a couple sips.

So once again she fixed vodka and Pellegrino, adding another slice of lime to each, cut thinner this time because there were only two left and she had a feeling they were going to be stuck in this house long past the time that the storm had moved on.

When she turned around Andréa’s eyes were fixated on her and Miranda had a momentary lapse into self-conscious unease, the sarong and tank top barely covering the parts of her body of which she was most self-conscious. However it was a reflex and one that had no place here so she pushed it away as she walked over to the bed.  

Trading the drink for the phone held in Andréa’s hand she sat cross-legged with her back against several pillows and the headboard.  She read the text from her daughters that sounded somewhat frantic and noted that they’d sent two prior at thirty minute intervals. Castigating herself for making them worry, she quickly fired off an assurance of their continued well-being but frowned as the send signal continued to rotate with no resolution culminating after a bit longer with a “Message Failed”.

Andy rolled over and peered at the display to see what had sparked Miranda’s exhaled expletive and dark look, taking in the no signal indicator. Without a word she retrieved her phone from the nightstand and turned it on; one bar of service but nearly no battery.

“What’s the number for Caroline and Cassidy?” Miranda had to look at the address book as she’d been communicating with Elizabeth’s phone and Andy quickly sent a text noting their continued existence along with her parent’s number and a request for Elizabeth to contact them. The message hung torturously for several seconds before finally indicating success and they both exhaled in relief. They sipped their drinks in silence, Andy, still partially lying on her back, staring at the ceiling as Miranda contemplated the pale light of a lone lantern swaying with the nearly melted cubes in her drink.

Andy yawned, “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Miranda murmured a quiet “Hmmm”; her own eyelids drooping. “There was something I wanted to ask you…”

Andy took a sip of her drink and pursed her lips while squinting at it as she placed it on the nightstand. “I think I’ve had enough of that.”

Miranda smirked as she polished off the last of the bitter drink. “Yes, well it’s not something I regularly indulge in but today, I’m making a few allowances in both taste and quantity.” 

Andy twisted her body so her torso was mostly on its side with her tender shins still facing the ceiling and propped her head up with her hand, giving Miranda a soft smile. “I know.”

At Miranda’s questioning look Andy continued; “I know you don’t really drink all that much.”

Miranda shifted so she was lying on her side as well, head propped up on her right hand. “Yes, well, it’s something I’ve always been careful of considering… “ Her voice trailed off.

Andy kept silent and waited.

Miranda shifted a bit, uncomfortable with disclosure. “I don’t usually talk much about my family.  My grandfather, my mother’s father, was… a drinker. After her death it got considerably worse, and he was quite mean as well which only got worse when he was in his cups. It got to the point that my father would no longer allow us to see them.”

Andy took a deep breath, her earlier lethargy replaced with a keen awareness of the trust Miranda was showing her by discussing this very personal topic.

“How old were you when your mother died?”

“Eight.” Miranda looked into her empty glass and contemplated a refill for only a millisecond before rolling back and placing it on the nightstand.

“May I ask what happened?” Andy felt the sadness and wanted to reach out but held still afraid that any sudden move would cut off the rare display of openness.

Distractedly Miranda murmured, “You could google it you know.” Her gaze was far away, reliving that horrible moment when her entire life seemed to crash down in front of her.

“Google it?”  Andy’s face transmitted her confusion.

“Yes, Ronan Point.” She nearly gagged on the words. “A total structural failure.” Miranda swallowed convulsively; she felt as though a bile-ridden pit was opening in her stomach. “I… I don’t know that I can really talk about this.” She reached behind her and grabbed a bottle of water off the nightstand and worried at the lid for several seconds before ripping it off and taking several gulps of the tepid water.

A warm hand briefly touched her arm then withdrew. “Look, you don’t have to. But, were you injured?”

Miranda tilted her head, she didn’t expect that question. It was never about her or what had happened or almost happened to her. In her memories it was always that stinging moment when she’d lost the warmth and love of her mother.

Tears gathered and glistened in the low light of the lantern. “No. Not physically... ” She stifled a sniffle as her voice grew hoarse. “..not physically.”    

Several moments passed. _Could I do this now?_ _Why would I now?_ Miranda stared at the lantern’s reflection in the expanse of glass lining the far wall, noting how it wavered slightly with the movement of the house.  Caught in the hypnotic fluttering of the light, almost like a flame, she struggled to pull herself back to the present. Perhaps there was a lesson here, in this house. Battered on the outside it bent with the elements but did not break; working with nature, not against it and against all odds it seemed as if it would survive.

Shaking her head she looked at the patient compassion with which Andréa regarded her. _Maybe I can be like this house, strong because I yield._ _Maybe it’s not weakness to share. Maybe I don’t have to be alone._

“My mother, father and younger sister and brother lived in East London, a place called Newham. Both my parents worked and they did alright, we’d just moved into a new apartment complex and always had food to eat and clean clothes.  Many were handmade as my mother was a seamstress, but she was skilled and you couldn’t really tell.” 

Miranda allowed a tiny smile as an image materialized. “I watched her from the time I could sit up in a chair on my own, fascinated by the movement of her hands as she measured, cut and stitched the cloth. The colors fascinated me and by the time I was four she was teaching me. I would work on the scraps, gaining an understanding of the different fabrics, what they felt like, how they could be joined… “. Sadness trickled in the form of liquid down the back of her throat and she had to take a moment before she could clear it away with a few more swallows. Rolling onto her back she glanced briefly at the still silent woman and then up at the ceiling.

“It was May sixteenth nineteen sixty eight, early morning. The sky was only starting to lighten and mother was in the kitchen, I could smell cinnamon, she was baking the rolls I so loved. Everything she did was filled with love and it was… it was all so normal. I was the first up, Cissy and Alvin were still asleep and father due home from the overnight shift at the mill in the next half hour. I had just reached the doorway into the kitchen and mother was turning, a smile on her face. “Good morning, luv.”

Miranda turned her head to look over Andy. “Those words were the last she ever said.” She swept trembling fingers through silver-white hair and winced, massaging her head to assuage the beginnings of a headache.

Andy lay there, fascinated; Miranda was a compelling storyteller and she could almost place herself in the scene. But when she noted the furrowed brow and how Miranda was pinching the bridge of her nose she could no longer keep her hands to herself. 

“Here, sit up for a sec.”

Miranda startled briefly but did as asked comforted when Andréa slid gingerly behind her then had her lean back. A gentle massaging of her neck and scalp released some of the tension that was causing her head to throb and she let out a quiet sigh.

“Thank you.”

“I know this is taking a lot out of you.” Andy murmured in Miranda’s ear and continued the massage.

Miranda gasped out the next words. “I’ve never told anyone of this. Only my father knows a little of what I experienced but…” She shook her head and shifted, the heat generated between their bodies was starting to become uncomfortable but the steady presence of the fingers as they loosened tense muscles kept her in place.

“I don’t know how to say it because it is still, even forty years later, like a dream. A horrible, impossible dream. I was just about to cross into the kitchen and the world exploded and then disappeared.”

Andy felt a shiver ripple through Miranda’s body and when she continued her voice, while a bit stronger, was somewhat detached. 

“They told us later that a gas explosion in someone’s stove severely damaged a load-bearing wall causing a total loss of structural integrity in one entire corner of the building. Twenty-two floors in our corner disappeared in a blink of my eyes. We were on the tenth. One moment our home and our lives were intact, the next, in a deafening roar of crumbling concrete and twisting metal all that was left was this choking cloud of dust. I remember just standing there, on the very edge, looking out at nothing and it didn’t make any sense. I was crying. My hands gripping the doorjamb and I was numb. I…” One tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “I couldn’t understand where she’d went. I couldn’t believe she could just disappear.”

Andy trailed her hands down the slick-from-sweat shoulders and arms until she reached her waist then gathered Miranda in and gently squeezed then held her, rocking slightly.

“Miranda…”

“Yes, yes. I’m alright. Really.” She patted Andy’s hand and leaned forward, separating their sweat-fused body with minimal pulling of cloth and skin. 

“My god but it’s very uncomfortable in here.” Miranda scooted about a foot away and then turned her body back towards Andy.

“Yeah it is and this isn’t helping.” Andy looked down at her damp clothing, pulled her tank over her head and shimmied out of her shorts; plopping back down when she was finished. A watery half-smile was all she could manage due to the discomfort in her shins, the heat, Miranda’s sobering story and her exhaustion.

Miranda took it all in and cupped Andy’s face leaning in for a light kiss. “I think I needed to finally tell that story.”

When Andy smiled a few tears broke free. “Thank you for sharing it. For trusting me.”

They held eye contact for a few seconds longer and Andy followed up with a whispered, “I love you Miranda.”

Miranda sighed in exhaustion then leaned her forehead to Andy’s. “And I you.”

XlXlXlXlXlXlX

The beeping of the low-battery alert on Andy’s phone followed closely by the chime of a responding text did little to rouse the two women as two days’ worth of stress and the lack of restful sleep coupled with the emotional roller coaster experienced by both, finally caught up with them. While the storm continued to ravage their section of the gulf coast the two women caught in its hold finally rested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the longest chapter I know but I wanted to get this part out there. I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapters written but I won't allow as much time to pass going forward.


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